I Fear the Night
by Munch It Back
Summary: A cursed, little girl in the land of lords... What lies at the end of her road? Where there is fire, there are shadows. Where there is light, there is darkness. And where there is day... There is night. Vereor Nox. An adaptation of Dark Souls told from a different perspective.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

They stood atop the stone roof of a decrepit structure by the iron, jagged and enchanted railings. A robed little girl, and a masked old man. The moans and cries of the lost and forsaken souls around them echoed ominously in the darkness of New Londo.

In the levels below, an armoured figure could be seen emerging from a decrepit building— walking amongst corpses of fiendish Darkwraiths and the countless dead that were sacrificed long ago to contain them.

"Magnificent... He's defeated the Four Kings, hasn't he?" Spoke Ingward, the last remaining sealer of New Londo. "That is impressive, even for a bearer of the Lordvessel."

"I had no doubts for his success," said the little girl in Ingward's company, with a relieved smile on her lips.

"With this, my purpose is exhausted," the sealer told her. "But what of you, little lady?"

The child's eyes never left the form of the Four Kings' slayer, who slowly approached the elevator to the upper level.

"My purpose lies with him, mister Ingward."

Ingward looked at the little girl, and his gaze seemed somewhat sympathetic despite his expression being concealed by his beaked mask.

"Even if that road is lined with thorns?" He asked.

"Even if that road leads to ruin."

"You may find only betrayal and darkness at the end."

The girl finally looked to Ingward, and she smiled warmly— a smile of sincerity and faith.

"Even so, I will walk that road," she told Ingward with resolution. "All the other paths for me have been long destroyed."

"I see... Then, I will say no more." Ingward turned away, and looked to the levels below.

"I will stand by him until the end."

The child clutched her talisman to her chest, and she closed her eyes. A prayer then escaped her lips.

"Vereor Nox."

 _Just how long, has it been? Since my fate had led me to his side?_

* * *

 **The flames fade...**


	2. Chapter I - The Cursed Priestess

**I - The Cursed Priestess**

Grey. The world that the girl saw at the moment, was nothing short of grey. The old brick walls— battered and broken, the clouded sky that obscured the sun, the towering structure of the dreadful Undead Asylum… All of it emanated emptiness, despair, and most of all; a looming darkness. The little priestess clutched her talisman tightly, and from her lips whispered a prayer.

"Vereor Nox."

The priestess' white hair blew with the gentle wind. She had eyes of amber that reflected the little light that slipped through the encompassing clouds, and pale, yet fair skin with reddish lips and a blushed nose. Her small frame was adorned in a white robe and a grey cloak; befitting someone of her stature and faith. The young priestess was beautiful, by all rights.

The little girl looked up at the fortress of the unliving once again. Fear was reflected in her countenance, tears welled up in her eyes, and like any other child would; she cried. The girl covered her eyes with her hands as she wailed, tears dripping down the fair and white skin of her cheeks. Her steel-clad companion who had been walking in front of her, stopped in his tracks upon taking notice of the girl's sobbing. The knight turned towards the girl with his expression obscured by his helm, and he approached the weeping child.

"My lady," the knight spoke softly. He knelt down to the child's height and he placed a hand on her small shoulder. "Please, I know that you are afraid... But you must have strength."

The girl looked at her companion, with tears still falling from her eyes.

"Are you not afraid, Sir Esmond?" She asked between sniffles, and she rubbed her eyes frantically.

Esmond of Thorolund smiled from behind his steel helm, and he shook his head.

"No, even I am not immune to this affliction we call fear," he admitted gracefully. "The Undead Asylum is home only to the mad and wicked, the thought of the horrors that await naturally frightens me."

"You lie, Sir Esmond," the girl retorted with a frown. "You speak of fear, but you seem to be anything but afraid."

"A man can fight his fears. In my case, I must," Esmond explained. "I will brave any darkness, no matter how treacherous to see you rid of your curse, Lady Edana"

Edana's cheeks reddened from embarrassment in response to her knight's bold statement. But her bashful expression quickly turned to that of brimming guilt.

"Pray forgive me, Sir Esmond," said Edana woefully. "Your body is free of the darksign, and yet you must go to these lengths for me... You shouldn't be in this mess."

Esmond shook his head.

"Think naught of it, my lady," he told Edana. He ran his hand through the girl's long white locks of hair. "You are like a sister to me, I would have come with you even if I wasn't instructed to."

Edana wiped the last of her tears, and she spoke gratefully.

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure. Now; show me a brave face, my lady."

The little girl nodded, and she smiled brightly. She could always rely on the stalwart Sir Esmond.

The knight was donned in steel plated armour from head to toe. The design was simple and rustic, not much suited and reflective of his faith in the Way of White; but Esmond was a pious man nonetheless. At his belt was a decorated sword— an heirloom of his house, and on his arm was a kite shield that bore a magnificent of a white eagle, it was the symbol of his family.

"Good, then let us continue onward; beyond the asylum lies the promised path to Lordran," said Esmond. "We'll avoid the main gate and find a way in elsewhere."

The stalwart knight led Edana off the road and towards the hillside that lined one side of the asylum's ruined walls. On her arduous and dreadful task; she was glad to have Esmond by her side, at least. She couldn't even imagine the journey without him.

Edana and Esmond were of Thorolund descent and a part of the esteemed Way of White. The both of them were born from noble houses, but Esmond chose the path of knighthood while Edana became a priestess despite her young age. The girl was abundant with talent; she had learned to cast miracles from the mere age of five and had an immeasurable amount of faith in the Way of White. The clerics regarded her for those talents, and they had predicted a bright future for Edana... But, they could never predict the appearance of the ravenous darksign on her body. And like all the Undead of the Way of White before her, they sent Edana on a mission for kindling... Without remorse, nor shame.

A little girl could hardly tackle such a task alone, and so it was that Esmond was instructed to accompany her. The stalwart knight was not even Undead, yet he harbored no qualms about his assignment— rather, she showed great conviction and unbridled determination. Their mission would take them to the ancient land of lords; where it all began... So surely they would find answers there, they had to. Esmond promised Edana that he would stop at nothing until he found a way to rid the little priestess of the darksign. If there was anywhere to find a cure, it was in Lordran. The only thing that kept Edana going... Was Sir Esmond's promise. It was her last glimmer of hope.

"There!" Esmond cried and pointed, just as Edana's legs were starting to give out from traversing the rocks of the hillside.

The knight's finger was pointed at an opening in the brick wall, from there they could access a veranda. The wooden railing was smashed to bits, and climbing up onto that spot on the wall would have been no arduous task from their position on the hillside. Sir Esmond strapped his shield to his back, and he vigorously leapt up and grabbed the ledge of the wall. Despite the burden of his armour weighing him down, the knight was able to pull himself up onto the veranda with a loud grunt. Esmond then disappeared up there without a word, leaving Edana waiting with wonder and engulfing worry.

"Esmond...?" Edana muttered, and then she panicked. "Sir Esmond!"

Esmond's helm-adorned head popped out from atop the wall, prompting Edana to flinch from surprise.

"Okay, it's clear," said Esmond, oblivious to Edana's little moment of distress. "Come on up, my lady."

The knight extended his hand, encased in a steel gauntlet. Edana looked at Esmond blankly before pouting.

"Is something the matter?" Sir Esmond asked the girl, raising a brow from behind his helm.

"No, it's nothing," Edana replied bitterly.

The priestess jumped as high as she could whilst extending her slender arm upwards. Esmond quickly and successfully caught her by the arm, and he pulled her up onto the wall. Esmond quickly got to his feet, while Edana was busy brushing off the dust and dirt from her robes. The knight drew his sword and he brandished his shield, which prompted a reaction from the priestess in his company.

"Sir Esmond?" Edana asked with worry clear in her voice.

"Anything goes from here on out; stay close, and keep that blade on hand," Esmond instructed Edana in a strict and serious tone.

Edana swallowed nervously, and she removed her dagger from her belt.

The two of them were in the accursed Undead asylum, and they knew that danger awaited them ahead. Sir Esmond wasn't going to take any chances, there could be hollows around every corner after all... Rather, the whole asylum was likely to house nothing but hollows. Edana hoped in her heart that the cells would have remained intact after all that time.

Sir Esmond lead Edana into the building. They trekked a many number of rooms, desolate— but never quiet. There was eerie moans and cries, and it got louder and louder the further they walked. They were nearing the cells, Edana knew it. And then finally, upon turning one fateful corner; the priestess' skin crawled and her eyes widened with shock. Something stood there, against the wall. A thin figure, skin dried and blemished, clothes tattered and ragged; revealing the terrible mark across the left side of its chest. The appearance of the mark was unfamiliar to Edana, but she knew immediately that it was the darksign. Hers was nothing like it, the figure's mark was enlarged and it covered the entirety of its left breast.

"So, this is a hollow," Esmond spoke calmly. It was the first time that Edana and the knight had ever laid eyes upon the final stage of the curse.

Edana said nothing, she watched as the hollow slumped down onto its knees. It's head turned towards the two, and the white-haired girl gasped. Where there should have been eyes, was nothing but sockets filled only with darkness and glowing red orbs. Edana stepped back fearfully, clutching her dagger ever so tightly. The hollow slowly and weakly raised its slender and bony arm, stretching out its hand towards the priestess and the knight. A low and quiet moan escaped its dried and prickled lips, and Sir Esmond stepped forward.

"Be silent, abomination," Esmond said coldly. He grabbed the hollow's fragile skull and slammed it against the wall to expose its neck, and then the knight's blade fell upon it.

The little priestess had looked away, but when she turned back to Sir Esmond and the hollow; she was unable to avoid the sight of the severed head rolling in a puddle of rotted blood. Edana went to scream, but Esmond quickly covered her mouth.

"You must be quiet," Sir Esmond sternly told the priestess. "Please."

Edana looked at her knight with tears in her eyes, and she nodded. Sir Esmond removed his hand in response.

"I beg forgiveness, my lady," the knight apologized, and Edana bit her lip.

"Did... Did you _have_ to r-remove it's... Head?" The girl asked quietly, she was traumatized.

"I've never faced these creatures before, I had to make sure that it died," Sir Esmond answered solemnly. "I know it is hard, but you _must_ bare with it; it is for your own good."

The little priestess was looking down; shivering. She released a sniffle, and Esmond walked up and he placed a hand on her shoulder again.

"My lady Edana, I beg of you."

Edana did not respond.

"My lady..."

The girl looked up at her faithful knight, and she finally nodded; albeit weakly.

"I understand, Sir," Edana said, and Esmond nodded.

"Thank you," the knight replied with relief, and he removed his hand once again before turning around. "Let's not delay."

Sir Esmond continued on staunchly, and Edana quietly followed. From that point forward, Edana saw the deaths of many a hollow by the hands of Sir Esmond. Some of them were able to muster resistance, but they were no match for the Thorolund knight. Those poor souls... The girl pitied them. Corralled and locked away, left and forgotten. In each of the hollows that they encountered, Edana saw what was once human, like her. And in turn, she also saw a part of herself in the forsaken creatures... Was that to be her fate as well? To hollow away until nothing was left but a husk? It frightened her. The thought was a ravaging nightmare.

The two continued through the darkness of the asylum halls quietly, without words to speak. Edana was unsettled at every turn, while Sir Esmond was steeled and focused on the task before him. The priestess envied him. His valor, bravery and strength were traits that she sorely lacked. Edana wished that she could have even a speck of Esmond's determination, but that was nothing but an empty fantasy to her. As Edana's mind swam in a pool of self-degradation, she was snapped out of her thoughts when Sir Esmond suddenly came to a halt.

"Sir Esmond...?" Edana muttered. "What's wrong?"

Esmond lifted a finger to gesture for silence, and he sternly stood still with his sword hand gripping tightly on the hilt of his weapon.

"Footsteps," the knight whispered. "Do you hear them?"

Edana stopped to listen, and she found that Sir Esmond was right; there were indeed distant sounds of footsteps. The girl could hear the clanking of what seemed to be sabatons, and the rustling of chains.

"Armour," Sir Esmond observed. The knight raised his shield as the sound started to become louder... Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

A figure appeared from around the corner, and Sir Esmond wasted no time. The knight roared as he swung his blade at the enigma, but the blow found itself colliding with a shield. The sound of the collision burst out loudly; the clanging of metal echoed throughout the dreadful halls. Sir Esmond clicked his tongue agitatedly due to his failure to end the fight quickly. He retracted his sword and swiftly moved in for another attack.

"Damn!" A voice cursed, but Edana could not tell whose it was. It wasn't Esmond's; the voice wasn't deep enough.

Sir Esmond's blade met his foe's shield again, and the figure swung back at him with a sword. The Thorolund knight was quick however, and he ducked before slamming his shield against his opponent's. There was then a furious exchange of swords; Sir Esmond and his foe skillfully dished out attacks left and right whilst blocking every blow successfully. Edana was paralyzed as she watched the heated duel, for the little girl could do naught else.

"Blasted hollow!" There was that voice again. This time, Edana clicked and she let out a gasp.

"No!" The girl cried and then she shouted from the top of her lungs. "Esmond, stop, _he's human_!"

"What?" Esmond uttered with disbelief, and he quickly made distance between him and his mysterious opponent.

The knight stood still with his sword and shield still raised, and he observed the figure's appearance. He was armoured from head to toe and his shield bore a magnificent crest. But most of all, Sir Esmond recognized the azure surcoat lined with golden trims and decorations... The uniform of an elite knight of Astora. But Esmond wasn't yet sure that he was human, until the Astoran knight lowered his sword and exhaled loudly.

"I almost found death by fright, let alone a blade," the elite knight expressed with overflowing relief.

"By the gods," Sir Esmond croaked, lowering his own arms.

The Astoran knight then slumped backwards and fell onto his backside without a loud clunk from his armour. Edana gasped again, and the priestess hurried to the man's side.

"Are you alright?!" Cried Edana. "Where are you hurt? I have miracles, I can help you!"

The elite knight raised a hand in front of Edana's face.

"Pl... Please, calm yourself, I am unharmed," the Astoran told the little girl with a smile from behind his helm, which prompted the latter to raise her brows.

"Then, what is the matter...?"

"I was just a bit overwhelmed... And, relieved," the knight explained, grasping his helm. He looked to Sir Esmond. "You're a terrifying swordsman, Sir."

"You are not bad yourself," replied Esmond, sheathing his sword.

Edana helped the Astoran knight to his feet, and like Sir Esmond; the latter sheathed his blade. The little priestess then turned to Sir Esmond with an angered frown.

"Sir Esmond, apologize this instant!" Edana commanded in a serious tone. The fact that her knight attacked someone, a human no less so rashly upset the girl.

"Of course." Sir Esmond gave a curt nod. He took the command quite well, as the knight did feel rather guilty about it. "Pray forgive me, I was rash."

"All is forgiven," the Astoran told Esmond. He then looked to Edana before back to the Thorolund knight. "You had a reason to be rash."

"Please, Sir; would you honour us with your name?" Edana asked the stranger gently.

The elite knight took a step back and he bowed courteously.

"I am Oscar, knight of Astora."

Edana went to speak, but Sir Esmond interrupted her; much to her displeasure.

"I am Esmond of Thorolund, a knight; the same as you," Sir Esmond introduced himself in turn. "The little lady is Edana, also of Thorolund."

"It is my pleasure," remarked Oscar.

"Lady Edana is born of an esteemed house and is a priestess of the Way of White," Esmond explained to Oscar, and then warned him. "So treat her as her title demands."

The little priestess frowned again. Sir Esmond wasn't being direct about it, but there was an air of hostility about him. Edana was puzzled to why her knight was being so uncouth and stern.

"I will do as my honour is due, don't worry," Oscar assured Esmond. "But forgive me for asking... Are the both of you Undead as well?"

"So the darksign brands you?" Sir Esmond asked Oscar shrewdly, avoiding his question. But Edana was already dead sick of Esmond's rude behaviour.

"Sir Esmond is not Undead, but I am," Edana said clearly and confidently. Sir Esmond looked at the little girl; his expression was concealed by his helm but Edana knew that he was not pleased.

Oscar paused for a single moment, before he spoke again.

"How old are you, my lady?"

"Twelve, sir."

"And so it is... Much too young..." Sir Oscar muttered sympathetically. "Tis a cruel fate we share, my lady; but we mustn't let it break us."

Edana said nothing, she just grasped her gentle hands together nervously. Oscar was like Esmond; the girl could tell. They both held the empowering conviction and resolve to carve their way towards their goals. How dazzling. The presence of such heroes served well to kindle Edana's feeling of crushing inferiority and helplessness. Sir Oscar took notice of his failure to encourage the little priestess, so he instead decided to get right to business.

"The two of you seek Lordran, do you not?" Asked the Astoran knight.

"We'd not lurk about this wretched prison if we didn't," Sir Esmond answered. "The legend of the passage spreads as far as Astora, I take it."

"Indeed it does." From one of his pouches, Oscar removed a rather large key; runic and ancient. "The two of you should come with me... I believe this is the key to the passage we seek."

"How did you come across it?" Esmond asked curiously, raising his brows.

"In the hands of one who lacked the sanity to use it." The elite knight returned the old key to his pouch.

Sir Esmond nodded with understanding. He looked to the silent Edana, before turning back to Oscar.

"Then let us not waste any more time— lead the way, Sir," the Thorolund knight told Oscar. "Daylight burns away, and I'd fancy myself a clever man to not linger here in the night."

"Of course, but... There is a slight problem," Oscar nervously replied.

"A slight problem?" Asked Edana, raising an eyebrow with curiosity.

"Then pray tell us of this— watch out!" Esmond shouted mid-sentence.

Oscar and Edana whipped around, only to pale before the grotesque form of a hollow raising a shattered blade above the white-haired girl's head. Sir Esmond frantically burst from his position, harshly pushing Edana to the side as he drew his sword and dispatched the cursed creature that dared to threaten his lady in a single stroke. The fragile hollow's figure was severed in two by the Thorolund knight's fierce attack, and fell as bloodied pieces on the cold, stone ground.

"My lady! Are you unharmed?!" Sir Esmond quickly turned and attended to his mistress. Guilt rushed throughout his very soul as he regretted in his mind for shoving the priestess aside so roughly. "Gods...!"

"I-I'm alright, Sir Esmond," Edana gave her staggered reply. Blood trickled down from her forehead, and the girl clutched the scratch with a tear in her eye.

The girl's knight was absolutely horrified. It was inexcusable for a knight to harm his charge, no matter how desperate the situation was.

"I feared as much." Oscar clicked his tongue, and the sound of moaning hollows intensified from around the corner. "We must away! With me, quickly!"

Sir Esmond hurriedly helped his mistress to her feet, and the two followed Sir Oscar through the narrow hallway; sprinting down the way the the former had come from. It wasn't long before Edana's frail body came to tire, and her knight wasted no time in scooping her up into his armoured arms. Edana looked back as Sir Esmond carried her; looking upon the hollows that pursued them... They counted large in numbers. The three of them continued on until Oscar came to a halt with his sabatons sliding across the stone floor. The elite knight smashed one of the wooden windows with his shield, and he was quick to leap through the gap; finding himself on the top of a tiled stone roof.

"Here!" Sir Oscar cried, extending a hand to assist Esmond and Edana.

Oscar helped the little priestess up onto the roof and Sir Esmond lifted her through the broken window. The Thorolund knight quickly followed the two up, and the three of them were finally in the clear. They all panted to catch their breaths, but Sir Esmond approached Edana to inspect her injury.

"It's okay... It's just... A scratch," Edana told her knight between pants.

"Thank the gods... But I... Am unworthy of forgiveness," Esmond replied with distress clear in his voice.

"There's naught to be forgiven, you saved me from that hollow, Sir Esmond," Edana refuted Esmond's statement with a warm smile.

The Thorolund knight slumped his shoulders in overflowing relief, but then that relief turned into boiling rage. His hands clenched tightly into fists, and he turned to Oscar immediately to demand answers.

"Pray tell me, Sir Oscar... What the devil was that?!" Sir Esmond glared at the Astoran from behind his helm. "Was that the problem you were speaking of?!"

"Well... That is..." Oscar said between pants.

"Those hollows wore the rags of prisoners!" Esmond scowled. "Why were they free of their cages?! Tell me!"

"B... Because it was I who let them loose," Oscar confessed weakly, looking down as he did so.

Sir Esmond snapped. He roughly grabbed Oscar by his coif with both of his hands; fuming with infernal anger as his fingers slowly crept towards the Astoran's neck. Sir Oscar grabbed Esmond's armoured hands in an attempt to free himself, but the Thorolund knight was too strong. Oscar slowly found himself being lifted off the ground by his neck.

"What madness possessed you to release those creatures from their cells?!" The Thorolund knight fumed. "My lady was almost killed because of you!"

"Sir Esmond, stop this at once!" Edana cried, but it fell upon deaf ears. "Release him!"

"Answer me, Oscar!" Esmond growled, and Oscar squirmed.

"I... Can't... Breathe...!"

"Esmond, _enough_!" Edana shouted from the top of her lungs.

Esmond released Oscar, dropping him onto the tiles of the roof. The elite knight desperately gasped for breath as the Thorolund knight stood over him with growing hostility. Edana grabbed onto Sir Esmond's arm and she glared angrily at the knight.

"You go too far, Sir!" Edana told Esmond, who turned his head to her. "That situation was beyond anyone's control!"

"Do you believe that, my lady?!" Sir Esmond retorted harshly, and his glare was upon Oscar once again. "Then know that my anger is also beyond my control!

"So a man can fight his fears, but not his rage?!" Edana snapped, which took her knight aback and left him in silence.

Edana turned to Oscar, who had recovered and was seated on the tiles.

"Sincerest apologies, my lady Edana, Sir Esmond," apologized the elite knight.

"I believe... That you owe us an explanation, Sir Oscar," Edana calmly told him in response.

"Of course... I am no madman, pray believe me," Sir Oscar replied solemnly. "It's because... There is an old saying in my family, you see..."

The Astoran knight took a deep breath and exhaled, before he told of his ancient family words.

"Thou who art Undead, art chosen... In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords... When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know _._ "

Those words echoed deeply in Edana's heart.

"The fate of the Undead..." Edana recited, tightly grasping her talisman to her chest with her free hand.

"Do you understand, now?" Asked Sir Oscar, his gaze pointed to Esmond. "If it is not my destiny to ring the Bell of Awakening... Then perhaps it belongs to another; that's why I...!"

"You will find no fabled hero among those hollows," Sir Esmond told him bluntly.

"I recognize my folly; there is likely not a single sane soul left in this cursed asylum besides us."

"How can you even be sure if this prophecy of yours is naught but tasteless hogwash?" The Thorolund knight asked Oscar with a raised eyebrow.

"Even so, I will strive towards hope; no matter how slim," Oscar adamantly stated. "It is all I have... Don't you see?"

The small flicker of hope Edana held in her heart was kindled further by Oscar's words. The girl was convinced, but what of Sir Esmond? The priestess' knight just stared at the elite knight, and he then finally discarded any hostility that he had harbored towards Sir Oscar.

"I understand," said Sir Esmond. "Forgive me; I have wronged you... You and your convictions are truly worthy of respect."

"Sir Esmond...!" Edana spoke with disbelief, looking at her knight with an expression of shock.

"And upon hearing that family saying of yours... Even I, feel the want to believe in them," Sir Esmond admitted, and he held the hand that Edana had been using to clutch his arm. The priestess smiled warmly as she gripped Esmond's hand back tightly, she was absolutely delighted.

The Thorolund knight nodded to Edana, and he extended a hand to Sir Oscar to offer assistance.

"Let us go to Lordran together, brother, and find the answers that we seek," he sincerely told the elite knight, who took his hand and found himself on his feet again.

"Thank you, Sir Esmond, I will not squander your trust in me."

The three began traversing the rooftop, and Edana continued to smile. To see Sir Esmond make peace with Sir Oscar was relieving, she could hardly have her knight picking bones with the Astoran throughout the entirety of their quest, after all. Oscar was clearly a good man, and he did well to calmly endure Esmond's offences. And most of all, Edana felt within her; a burning conviction and determination... To discover the fate of the undead, and even to complete her sacred search for kindling. Her fear had blinded her before, but if she were to succeed... Through Kindling, the Way of White would be able to use the powers it would grant to help countless of Undead like her. And through seeking answers, the girl could perhaps become human again. Edana truly believed it.

"Tis a convenient path, to be sure," said Sir Esmond. "Not a hollow in sight, either."

"Indeed, we should be able to make it through with little trouble like this," Oscar chimed in as he nodded to Esmond.

Edana looked up to the dull sky, or rather the clouds, as they walked. The girl had found resolution, but the scenery ever emanated a cold gloom.

 _Grey,_ she thought. Her newfound will to complete her mission did not waver, but she could not help but feel woefully unsettled. It scratched at the back of her chest, unyielding and ominous. But Edana had to forge onward, it was the only way.

"Hold on," said Oscar abruptly as he stopped, prompting Esmond and Edana to come to a halt as well.

"What's wrong?" Edana asked him.

Sir Oscar's helm-adorned head was turned to the distance.

"There's a body over there," he told his two companions calmly.

Edana looked to where Oscar's gaze was focused, and she saw a figure— clearly hollow, sprawled out on the rugged tiles of the rooftop.

"I'll check it out, you two go on ahead," the Astoran told the Way of White pair. "I'll catch up."

"Be cautious, we can't be sure if it's truly dead," Esmond warned Oscar with sincere concern.

"Be safe, Sir Oscar," said Edana, with worry clear on her countenance.

Sir Oscar nodded, and he went off in the corpse's direction. Edana and Esmond walked on at a slow pace, and the former took the chance to start conversation with her staunch knight.

"I'm glad that you've made peace with Sir Oscar," Edana told him.

"It was a matter of if I could trust him or not," Sir Esmond explained to the girl. "I dare say that you were too quick to trust him, my lady."

"He's a knight, sworn to an oath of honour and faith... Was that not reason enough?"

Sir Esmond shook his head disappointedly.

"Nobody can tell what truly lies in the heart of a man. A knight can break his oaths."

"At least he turned out to be a man of respectable character, Sir Esmond." Edana frowned.

"So it may be, but you must do well to be careful from now on, my lady."

Edana said nothing more. But Sir Esmond was right, any person can claim to be anything... But it was a matter of if the claims were true. The priestess supposed that she was still naive, much to her displeasure. Maturity could not be forced, and Edana was still just a child.

It took a while for Oscar to return to his companions' side, which prompted curiosity from Sir Esmond. He was a sceptical man, after all.

"That certainly took you a while, what did you find?" The Thorolund knight asked him.

"Yes, forgive my tardiness... It was a prisoner, but on the body's possession was a key identical to one in my possession," Sir Oscar explained to the two.

"Like the one you showed us?" Edana asked in turn, but Oscar shook his head.

"No, it was a cell key. I used one to free the hollows down below."

"What did you do with it?" Esmond queried.

"A final service to the denizens of this place... There was a hole, and in it was a cell. I dropped the corpse in there along with the key."

Sir Esmond looked on sceptically, but he let it go.

"Were there any prisoners in this said cell?" He asked Oscar.

"One, he wore a helm so I could not tell if he was hollow... But either way, a hollow would be unable to use the key."

"Indeed," said Esmond. "And it seems we near the end of the rooftops."

Oscar nodded and went to speak, but the words were caught in his throat as he halted his steps. Edana and Esmond did the same.

Something large burst from the end of the rooftops, and landed onto the tiles with a loud crash. The little priestess' mouth was agape and her eyes widened; and in those eyes... Reflected doom. Grey, scaled skin with jagged blemishes, a frightening crown of horns piercing the sky like branches of a tree, shriveled leathery black wings, gleaming eyes of crimson, a scowling, ugly visage with yellowed sharp teeth... And in the grasps of its hands was a monstrous hammer of wood— or perhaps stone, large beyond comprehension.

Edana heard Sir Esmond crying out, but she could not make out the words that left the knight's mouth. Sound had become faint, and Esmond's voice was only heard as distant echoes to the girl. Her eyes were locked onto the monster before them... As it slowly moved closer and closer with thumping, heavy footsteps. Its arms raised, and the enormous hammer pointed to the grey, woeful sky.

"Lady Edana!" Esmond shouted, his voice finally reaching Edana's ears, who snapped out of it and flinched.

The priestess closed her eyes and screamed, and her knight grabbed her as he vaulted to the side, landing harshly. The hammer fell, demolishing the surface where Edana had stood; smashing a large hole in the roof. The demon was quick to recover from its attack, and its attention was ever focused on Edana; it stepped forward again so that it might grind the girl's bones into dust with a swing of its wrathful hammer. Sir Esmond was still recovering from the harsh landing, and there was no way that he would've made it in time...

But then Oscar slashed his blade into the side of the beast's leg. The elite knight's attack barely scratched it, it drew blood but not enough to even faze the demon... But it did serve well to catch its attention.

"You must flee!" Sir Oscar cried out to Esmond and Edana, his eyes not leaving the towering beast. "Over here, monster!"

The demon turned its deathly glare to the Astoran knight, and it released a roar from its very bowels. Sir Esmond took the chance to spring to his feet and he swooped Edana off her feet and into a carry.

"...I'll never forget this, Oscar, not for single moment!" Sir Esmond shouted, and he sprinted in the opposite direction of the demon.

"What?! No!" Edana screamed, resisting in Esmond's arms. "We can't leave him, Sir Esmond! We can't!"

The girl's helpless cries fell upon deaf ears, and she lacked the strength to free herself from Sir Esmond's grasp. Edana could only watch as the distance between them and Oscar widened with every step Sir Esmond took. Oscar was still fighting bravely, evading the demon's blows as it viciously swung its hammer around. But then, Sir Esmond leapt into a hole in the rooftop's tiles... And Sir Oscar disappeared from sight.

All Edana could remember next was crying in Sir Esmond's arms, as they sat in a desolate and dark room. The only light in that room was from the hole in the roof, which revealed the dust hovering around in the air. The sound of battle from up above had subsided, which could've only meant two things. Sir Esmond said nothing, for he lacked the right words to comfort his mistress. The same was for Edana, she do anything but cry into her knight's chest.

Familiar, ominous moans and wailing could be heard from the outside the room.

"...The hollows still actively roam the halls... We will have to remain here for a while longer," Sir Esmond finally spoke.

"I... I u-understand..." Edana replied sorrowfully, with tears streaming down her cheeks. "S-Sir Oscar... He..."

"Sir Oscar is a skilled warrior, he will not die easily," said Esmond.

That was a lie. Edana could tell. From Sir Esmond's last words to Oscar up above... He had no expectations of the Astoran's survival. The Thorolund knight was merely trying to comfort Edana.

The girl tried to control her sobs, but then Sir Esmond placed a hand on her head, brushing her pale white hair. His steel gauntlet was hard and cold; not exactly ideal for caressing the head of a child... But it provided Edana with a strange feeling of warmth in her heart.

"Cry all you want, my lady," he told her. "I will protect you."

Edana bit her lip, and was reduced to tears once again; like in infant... Into the encroaching, dreadful night. And then Sir Esmond whispered a prayer.

 **"Vereor Nox."**

 _I fear the night._

* * *

The sun slowly set behind the clouds, visible only through the hole in the roof. Sir Oscar's eyes were fixed upon the clouds as blood trickled down from through the cracks in his armour, underneath his now blood-stained azure surcoat. The demon was much too powerful for him to face, and the result of his dashing rescue was being smashed through the roof and into a blocked out cell. His gauntlet-enclosed hand clutched part of his massive wound, and he felt his shattered ribs stabbing through the flesh of his abdomen. The pain was unbearable at first, but his senses slowly came to dull over time. The bleeding was immense, and his Estus Flask was all but depleted... He was finished.

 _I have failed, haven't I?_ Oscar asked himself in his head.

He had died many times before, but he knew that after he would perish from his wounds... It would be the last time. Oscar felt it in his depths of his heart, scratching away at the back of his chest. The darksign was getting ready to drain away all of his souls, and his humanity. He would partake of the endless nightmare in the Undead Asylum, as a hollowed shell. Oscar could do naught but accept his fate...

 _I wonder if those two made it safely..._

Oscar began to drown in a pool of regrets, shattered dreams and looming despair. He thought that he had tried the best he could, but even that wasn't enough. Perhaps it was just fate. Perhaps he wasn't the one, as much as he hoped with all his heart that he was. Liquid welled up in his eyes, and the knight almost laughed at himself. What a pathetic failure it was, he couldn't even make it to Lordran.

He wanted to cry.

But then the knight's thoughts were interrupted, the wall before him crumbled as a large iron ball burst through. Brick scattered across the room and the ball harmlessly rolled to the corner, into the pool of putrid water. A figure emerged from through the new opening, and Sir Oscar's bloodshot eyes widened and his pupils dilated from behind his helm. He recognized the figure, and a feeling of relief rushed through him... Not because he would be saved; all hope of that had faded— but because his mission could still perhaps be accomplished.

"Oh, you... You're no hollow, eh?" Oscar uttered.

The mysterious figure said nothing and stood there, staring at Oscar's broken form. The elite knight then smiled weakly from behind his helmet, and the tears that were welled up in his eyes dripped down his paling cheeks.

 **"...Thank goodness..."**


	3. Chapter II - The Land of Moths

**II – The Land of Moths**

Edana saw it. Hazy, distorted visions of a man... One who would stand at the top of the world.

He stood at the border of light of darkness. The steel of his armour reflected both the fire and shadows that flickered by his side. His azure surcoat fluttered with the wind, and in his hands were a familiar crest shield, and decorated sword.

 _Sir Oscar?_ The girl thought.

It didn't take long, for the priestess to realize that she was standing at a distance from the mysterious, yet familiar knight. The figure stared at her from the slits of his helm, ever silently. Edana stood, bewildered and confused to the situation before her. The girl slowly and hesitantly took a step forward... And then another; nearing the knight with every step she took.

She tried to speak, but the words were unable to leave her mouth. So she kept on walking. But then she let out a cry of pain, and the girl immediately looked down at her feet. Jagged, black thorns had pierced her feet... She had not realized that she was not wearing her boots, nor did she realize that the path before her was so treacherous.

Edana took another look at the path, only to find that there were bones littering all over, and thorns lined all the way to the end. One, dreadful word echoed in her head.

 _Death._

The child's entire body was shaking, and her eyes produced tears from the burning pain of her feet. Edana looked to the man in the distance once more, and she saw him turn around... And he began to walk away. The priestess tried to call out to him, but once again the words failed to come out. She wanted to pursue him, but that would mean walking the dreadful road of thorns.

Ultimately, Edana stood helplessly as the knight slowly disappeared into the distance... And then she awoke.

* * *

"My lady...!" Sir Esmond called, almost as quiet as a whisper.

Edana slowly opened her eyes... And she found that she was lying on the ground. The priestess took note that she was still in the same room; she must have fallen asleep. Stiffly pushing herself off the ground, the girl looked to Esmond— who was standing at the door of the room. The barricades he had set up to bar the door were moved out of the way so that he could peer through a gap in the door.

"Sir... Esmond...?" Edana mumbled drowsily— the girl was practically half-asleep.

"The hollows, they've gone!" Sir Esmond told the girl ecstatically.

Those words completely snapped Edana awake, and she shot up to her feet and approached her knight.

"Truly?" She asked him with surprise. "All of them?"

"Yes— this is our chance," Sir Esmond replied, and he drew his sword from its scabbard. "With me, my lady."

"As you say, Sir."

Edana removed her dagger from her belt, and she held it tightly in her right hand. There was no time to waver, she couldn't continue to drag Sir Esmond down. They had to make it to Lordran, at all cost. The girl stood followed her knight as he slowly opened the door and walked out into the wretched hallway. There was not a single hollow in sight... They could still hear the crying and moaning but it was nowhere near as intense as it was before Edana slept. What could've happened to them all?

The two proceeded down the hallway, and Edana turned to Esmond.

"Sir Esmond, for how long was I sleeping?" Edana asked her knight.

"We near the dawn, so you were out for a while."

"And you were awake that whole time?"

"Yes, my lady."

Edana frowned a little, out of guilt.

"I'm sorry, you must be deathly tired," the girl apologized.

"It matters not, I am fine."

The two of them neared a corner, and the priestess decided to say nothing more on that subject upon seeing Esmond's steeled determination. But there was one more thing she needed to know.

"So, where did the hollows go?" She asked once again.

"It seemed like they were—" Esmond started, and as he turned left around the corner, the words were caught in his throat for a second. "...Chasing something..."

"What?"

Edana jogged up to see what had caught her knight's attention, and upon turning the corner— she gasped.

Tens, dozens of hollowed prisoners and guards lined the cold stone floor of the hallway... Dead. Slash wounds marked the hollowed corpses, and rotted blood pooled up beneath the gathering the bodies, oozing in a foul, purple colour. Footprints of blood, shaped to that of sabatons were visible on the ground, traceable all the way to the end of the hall and possibly beyond.

"Who could've..." Sir Esmond could barely find the words.

Edana's eyes were widened. Whoever cut those hollows down was no ordinary man... Assuming that they were alone. But then the priestess remembered the dream that she had, and she turned to Esmond.

"Oscar— It was Sir Oscar!" She cried.

Sir Esmond looked at Edana sceptically. There was no doubt that Esmond didn't believe Edana.

"What makes you feel so strongly about it?" The knight asked his mistress.

"When I slept, I had a dream... I saw him, Sir Esmond," Edana replied, voice filled with confidence. "It is a sign from the gods, he yet lives— I know it!"

"Wait, slow down, my lady... A dream?" Sir Esmond's tone was incredulous. "What did you see, exactly?"

"I saw Sir Oscar, clad in his armour with fire blazing amongst the darkness around him..." Edana told him. "It must have something to do with the prophecy— the Bell of Awakening... I...!"

Sir Esmond placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, who stopped speaking in response.

"Alright, let's talk about this later... For now, let us focus on the task at hand," the knight said.

The Thorolund knight turned, and began walking, prompting Edana to follow him with her head down. Her expression was that of sorrow.

"You don't believe me, do you?" She asked him.

"I said later, my lady."

The two remained silent after that, stepping over the corpses of the hollows as they proceeded through the hall. They followed the footprints, which became more dried and faded with every print they found... Until they found themselves in front of an open, enormous gate, made of wood.

Edana's heart thumped, and they entered into the hall that awaited within... Sir Esmond gripped his sword tightly and he raised his shield in anticipation. But then the two stopped again, and took in the sight before them with astonishment.

The beast they saw above, in its humongous, monstrous form... Laid still on the ground in the centre of the large hall. Blood pooled up beneath it, and it had a large gash on its head— with its crown of horns shattered and broken. Its hammer was still in its grasp, but it was clear that the demon was dead. Sir Esmond cautiously approached the felled monster, and he inspected its wounds.

"Wounds of a blade," he observed. "Amazing... Who could command such strength?"

"Sir Oscar..." Edana whispered, but Sir Esmond ignored her.

"In any case... It seems that this might be the path we seek."

The two looked to the other side of the hall, and there stood an opened gate... With a peculiar and large keyhole. They moved past the demon's corpse, and to the gate where they took a closer took at the lock. Sir Esmond traced a finger across it, and he murmured with wonder.

"The key Sir Oscar bore was certainly about this size..." Said Esmond, and he retracted his hand. "Was it truly him?"

"Like I told you, Sir Esmond! It has to be him!"

"That remains to be seen... Shall we go, my lady?"

Little Edana nodded. The path before them led uphill, with the dawn in the background— pulsing a small amount of light at the horizon. Their hike up the old steps was a quiet one... The two of them had bated breath in anticipation of what was to come. Lordran was in their grasps, and the true test was just about to begin. The two kept on walking, taking on the sights of the ruins that surrounded them as they did.

The crows let out cries as they passed, lurking about the dead bodies and scattered bricks that were present to the side of the steps. Sir Esmond paid them no heed, while Edana tried to ignore it with unsettling chills. Their hearts were thumping with anticipation, and every step served to kindle that emotion. The Undead Asylum was a treacherous, and foul place— Edana was beyond glad to be rid of it. The two eventually reached the top of the steps. But only... They found nothing at the end.

There was nothing.

The pair stood at the edge a cliff, with only the clouds and the mountains before them. Sir Esmond sheathed his sword, and he looked at the scenery without words, while Edana's eyes were widened with disbelief. The priestess turned to her knight, but she could not say anything upon seeing how paralyzed Esmond was. The knight's hands curled into fists, the sound of his gauntlets grinding could be heard and then finally, Esmond snapped.

"What— What is this?!" He shouted, his rage-filled voice echoed into the mountainside. "There's nothing here!"

Edana could do nothing but watch as her knight's rage projected out into his thundering voice. Sir Esmond took a close look around him, frantically and desperately. He started to breathe heavily and he turned to the emptiness of the scenery before them.

"Is this some sort of joke...?" He asked. "You can't be... Serious...!"

The knight slowly stepped forward, closer to the edge of the cliff. He was shaking.

"Where is the path promised to us?!" The knight cried, and then he looked to the sky. "Gods! Do you take joy in toying with us?!"

With tears in her eyes, Edana embraced Sir Esmond. Her small arms wrapped tightly around her knight.

"Tell me!" Sir Esmond continued to shout at the sky, tears dripping from his own eyes from behind his helm.

"It's alright, Sir Esmond! It's okay!" Edana told him as she cried.

"No— No! I won't accept this, do you hear me?!"

The Thorolund knight pointed a finger to the sky, but then his arm slumped down... And he fell onto his knees. His fuming anger quickly turned into inconsolable grief.

"Please... She's just a child— my lady is... Gods..." Esmond sobbed. "Why...? What did we do wrong? Oh, merciful gods... Please... I beg of you..."

Esmond wrapped his own arms around Edana, sinking into desperation. The priestess stayed still, and she forced a smile— albeit weakly.

"Sir Esmond, just let it be... If this is my fate— if this is the will of the gods, then..." Said Edana. "...I will accept it."

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Sir Esmond continued to cry in the girl's embrace. "I... Wanted to save you, but I... I've failed!"

"You haven't failed in anything."

"That is a lie!" Sir Esmond shouted. "I've failed, in everything..."

"It's alright, Sir Esmond... It's alright."

Edana continued to embrace him, as tears fell from her own eyes; and then her knight began to sob quietly. Perhaps it was better that way? Sir Esmond would need not jeopardize himself for the girl's sake— he could go back to Thorolund and live the rest of his days in peace... And Edana, she would just hollow away slowly, and quietly.

 _Yes, maybe_ _this is better..._ She thought.

The girl back looked to the vast and expansive scenery before them... But then something appeared before her eyes. Black feathers... And talons? Before she knew it, she was swept up into the air along with Sir Esmond. It wasn't until then that a gasp escaped her lips, it all happened in a flash. The ground quickly seemed to become further and further away from her, and the girl then tried to observe her situation carefully.

A crow, of some sort... Ridiculously large, had swept Edana and Esmond into its grasp with its talons. They were being carried... But more importantly, they were flying.

Edana screamed and she covered her eyes frantically.

"M-My lady!" Esmond cried. "Stay calm!"

"W-W-What is this?!" Edana shrieked. "Sir Esmond!"

The sound of rupturing air made it terribly difficult for the two to communicate; they could barely hear each other.

"Just listen to my voice, my lady!" Esmond shouted. "We're going to be alright!"

Edana shivered both from fear and the cold, bursting wind. Her hair blew with the violent gusts, and she finally, but slowly removed her hands from her eyes. She looked to the scenery before her. The sun could be seen rising from behind the clouds, at the horizon... And at that moment, all fear washed away.

The mountains, the light... It was beautiful. Sir Esmond as well, upon seeing his mistress calm down, turned his gaze towards the sights below them.

"It's... Beautiful..." Edana muttered.

The girl became numb to time as she watched the scenery pass by. Was the world ever such a sight to behold? She had never taken the time to appreciate it, with her tiresome duties as a priestess. But because of it, in that moment— she was grateful. Even in the darkest hours of her life, she found soothing clarity where she had least expected to find it.

The crow that had the two in its clutches suddenly chirped, which got the attention of Sir Esmond. The knight turned his head, and then he gasped.

"My lady, look!" He shouted.

Without Esmond telling her, the girl could already see it. A vast township at the base of a mountain, and even at the heights above it; more buildings and stone walls that surrounded the mountain at its summit. Edana could barely believe her amber eyes.

That was it. She knew it in her heart. Lordran.

A tear fell from her eye, and she smiled. The girl almost laughed with delight, but her little moment of euphoria was suddenly interrupted... By the crow's descent. It was opposite to what happened at the Undead Asylum— this time, the ground quickly became closer and closer. Edana of course, screamed loudly all the way until the crow dropped the two from its clutches, which sent them landing harshly on grass and tumbling across.

Sir Esmond quickly recovered from the fall, and he rushed to Edana's side— who fortunately wasn't injured in any way serious.

"My lady, are you alright?" The knight asked her as he helped the girl to her feet.

"Ow... I'm okay, for the most part," Edana replied as she rubbed the back of her head. "Thank you, Sir Esmond."

Edana looked to the ruins before her, and then she smiled slightly. The walls were all either broken or covered in moss, vines and vegetation... Or both. Where they were, the place had been untended for a long time. But there was, however; a bonfire at the centre— known to be a haven of respite for the Undead.

"But... We did it, didn't we?" She asked him warmly. "This is Lordran, isn't it?"

"My lady..." Sir Esmond was moved to tears.

But then a voice interrupted their blissful moment.

"Well, you're right about that."

Edana let out a little shriek in response, and the she and Esmond immediately turned to where the voice came from.

A man clad in chainmail sat on small ledge which was consumed by moss and grass. He had a head of short umber brown hair, black eyes and an unshaven face. A sword was visible; sheathed at his belt, and a small metal shield was situated to the side. But the most defining feature that the man bore was his monotonous expression. Eyes like that of a dead fish with bags underneath and a smile on his lips that was smug... Yet, lifeless.

"And you are?" Sir Esmond asked, and he approached the man.

"I've no care to give my name; I'm just a man who's given up... Call me whatever you want," the man replied, with his smile ever plastered on his lips.

"Is that right..." Esmond trailed off as he observed the man. "And, did you say that this is indeed Lordran?"

The crestfallen man released a chuckle.

"Is it your helm or your skull that's too thick?" he mocked Esmond, which provoked a glare from Sir Esmond. The man then laughed. "No, I'm sorry— this is Lordran, to be sure."

Edana slowly approached the man, and she stood at Esmond's side.

"Hello... I'm Edana, a priestess of Thorolund, and this is my knight; Sir Esmond— also of Thorolund," the girl introduced. "We're with the Way of White."

"Oh, yes. I thought my eyes were failing me but, a child stands right before my eyes," the man replied. "Now isn't that terrible... What are the old men at the church making you do, pillage graves? Or perhaps you seek something else...? Either way..."

The shrewd man then just started chuckling away, and Sir Esmond was at his wit's end.

"Speak sense!" The knight commanded, his tone ferocious.

"Right, right— let me give you some advice, for a start," the man told the two. "Whatever you are here for— some mission or mad treasure hunt... You'd best forget it."

"What?" Esmond raised an eyebrow.

"This... Land of lords, is hell itself; there is no hope here."

"What do you mean...?" Edana asked him.

The man shrugged, which rustled the chains of his mail and he sighed.

"For decades, countless of Undead like us come to this accursed place to fulfill their mission... Or mostly to seek the fate of the Undead," he explained. "Is that why you're here? The Bells of Awakening?"

Sir Esmond and Edana both looked to each other, and then back to the man.

"Did you say... _Bells_?" The Thorolund knight asked. "Not one?"

"Yes, there's actually two of them... One is up, and the other is below," the man went on. "Some knight arrived a day before you, I told him the same thing, and he left to go ring the one up in the church— but he's probably hollowed somewhere in the burg by now."

Edana flinched.

"A knight?!" She asked, stepping forward. "Did he tell you his name?!"

"No, but he looked to be Astoran— and an elite knight at that," the man said.

"What about his shield? Did he have a shield?" Edana frantically asked, unable to contain her excitement. "With a crest of flowers?"

"He did. Someone you know?"

The little priestess gasped with delight, and she turned to her knight— who was dumbfounded. Edana grinned and then she pointed at Esmond.

"I told you, Sir Esmond! It's Sir Oscar, he's alive!" She cried.

"Well, I'll be... Heartwarming news, indeed," Sir Esmond replied coolly, but barely able to contain his joy.

"Yes, all flowers and honey at the moment, but mark my words," The man interrupted them once again. "No one has ever succeeded, and your friend will be made short work of like the rest of them... You'd best not chase him on his foolish journey, unless you want to see him with his sanity run dry— lusting for your souls."

Edana frowned. The man's words agitated her; his tone, his expression... Everything. And most of all; he had no right to criticize Sir Oscar like that.

"You don't know that!" The girl cried. "Sir Oscar is a skilled knight!"

"Oh, believe me, little girl— we get lots of skilled knights around here," the man told her with a grin, and then he pointed up. "You can find them up there if you're curious... All hollow and ready to slice you into bits."

Edana bit her lip and Sir Esmond balled his hands into fists. He was angry, very much so.

"I've had enough of your tone, let alone you intimidating her... I'll have you know my lady is born of one of the great houses of Thorolund," Sir Esmond growled. "Should I smash it into your head?"

The crestfallen man just chuckled again.

"I've heard enough about m'lady for a lifetime; I owe you no respect," he told Esmond calmly.

Sir Esmond slowly reached for the hilt of his sword, and then the man glared.

"Don't try anything clever... You might regret it," he told Esmond.

"We'll see about that, you lowborn cur!"

Edana put a hand in front of Sir Esmond to block him out.

"No! Enough," she commanded, and then she turned to the crestfallen man. "Just one more thing... Which way did that knight go?"

The man smirked, and he pointed to the hillside. A set of steps lined the side, which led up to bridge-like structure, made from stone and supported by pillars that shot down all the way into the valley below.

"Up through the waterway, and to the old Undead Burg to get to the church... It's suicide, I'm telling you."

"That is for us to determine... But thank you," Edana thanked the man reluctantly.

"Oh, and one more thing."

Sir Esmond crossed his arms, and he released an aggravated sigh.

"What now?" He questioned, almost like a growl.

"There's a cleric up by the shrine, you might want to talk to him— he's also of the Way of White."

Edana and Esmond looked to each other, and then back to the crestfallen man.

"A cleric?" They muttered.

Sir Esmond then patted Edana on her shoulder, and the girl nodded to him. The priestess turned her attention to the crestfallen man, who just stared at them with his shrewd smile.

"...Thank you, again," said Edana.

"Don't thank me," the man told her. "This land attracts men like moths to a fire... And we all know what happens when a moth flutters too close to the flame..."

The man then laughed quietly, and the Way of White pair stared at him as if he was a madman.

"You'll soon see... But, no matter," the man said. "So, off you go."

"Yes... Good bye for now," Edana replied.

The Way of White pair said no more, and they turned away from the man and began walking away. The crestfallen warrior lips tug into a smirk, and he looked down.

 **"It is why you came, isn't it? To this accursed land of the Undead?"**

* * *

"His was a coarse character," Edana complained as she walked past the bonfire with Esmond.

"Say the word, and I will punish him for his disrespect," Sir Esmond told her, which caused the little girl to frown,

"Sir Esmond, no," she replied, and her knight just snickered. Edana then sighed. "Let us meet this cleric."

"Yes, there is only one reason why we of the Way of White seek the land of lords..."

"Kindling." Edana nodded.

The two stopped to look at the ruined shrine before them. Old stone, covered in the green of moss and vines. The walls and pillars were mostly destroyed, with traces and parts crumbled on the ground. Even though the place was in a sorry state, Edana thought it was somehow beautiful. The shrine gave off a strange sense of mysticism that piqued the priestess' interest.

"What do you suppose the purpose of this place was?" Asked Edana with wonder.

"Worship of the gods, perhaps," Esmond replied with little interest. "Tis a shrine, after all."

"Mayhap they prayed to devils, Sir Esmond," Edana joked with a cheeky smile.

"Nonsense, such a cult would not even have a chance to erect themselves a facility like this." Sir Esmond's tone was dry and plain. He never was abundant with a good of humour.

Edana pouted, and then sighed; which got Sir Esmond's attention.

"What's wrong, my lady?" He asked.

"Nothing, it's nothing!" Edana replied and then walked on. She was sulking.

"Wait up, my lady— there might be dangers about!" Esmond called, but the girl kept on walking. The knight was dumbfounded, but he was quick to follow his mistress.

The two came across steps leading up, on which they traversed. After making there way up, they were immediately in the sights of a rather rotund man with a blonde bowl cut, standing before them amongst old clay pots. He wore the black armour of an elite warrior cleric, and on the ground beside him was his gear; a bag, a morning star and a metal kite shield that was decorated in red and blue along with an eagle engraving at its centre. He was clearly the cleric that they were seeking.

The man had an absolutely dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Oh, my...!" He uttered.

The cleric was looking at Edana; he clearly recognized her. Sir Esmond and the girl approached the man with good intentions.

"Yes— my eyes could never deceive me from that white hair..." The man trailed off. "You are, m'lady Edana, am I correct?"

"That I am, and in my company is Sir Esmond; my knight," Edana replied. "But, I don't believe I know you... Um...?"

"Petrus, of Thorolund; much like you, m'lady," the cleric introduced himself as he bowed. "It is an honour, but only... M'lady Edana, why are you here?"

Edana went quiet for single moment be she spoke.

"Because I've become Undead, and as such... Have been sent on a mission to seek Kindling."

Petrus' eyes widened, and he bore the expression of sympathy. Sir Esmond crossed his arm and remained silent as the elite cleric shook his head.

"Oh, that is too cruel..." Petrus said. "Gods be merciful, to brand a child..."

The little priestess looked down and she bit her lip out of frustration.

"But, you can rest assured now, m'lady," Petrus told her. "My three companions should arrive within the week, and then we will face our duty together."

Edana blinked, and she turned to Sir Esmond.

"All Undead clerics of the Way of White are sent on our very same mission, my lady... Did you forget?" The knight asked her.

"Gods, that is... Wonderful, unbelievable!" Edana delighted, and she grabbed Petrus' hand. "Yes, let us complete our mission, together, Petrus!"

Petrus just laughed, and so did Esmond. Edana hadn't been so happy ever since she left Thorolund; it came as an overwhelming relief that she and Sir Esmond had allies to count on. It was a treacherous mission, in a treacherous land; but yet... There was hope.

"You are a godsend, Petrus— thank you," Sir Esmond said.

"No, you praise me too much, Sir," Petrus replied with a warming smile.

Edana knew that the Thorolund knight did not take well to strangers, but to an ally of the same cause; it was the exact opposite. For a man as pious as Sir Esmond, he could not help but respect the holy stature of clerics— let alone a man worthy enough to wear the black armour of an elite warrior cleric.

The three of them settled and sat down on the ground as they spent time to converse and get to know each other. Petrus proved to be a great and faithful man; Edana knew that she could trust him. He gave Edana much insight on miracles and conduct for a cleric of the Way of White. Sir Esmond had even taken off his helm, revealing his auburn brown hair and his handsome face. He had brown eyes, a scar on his left cheek, and due to his travels— the knight had not shaven and bore a stubble on his chin.

"I had a feeling that Lady Rhea would be coming here, after she became Undead and all," Sir Esmond noted.

"Yes, it is a distressful situation for her... Much like you, m'lady," Petrus told Edana. "But, I am surprised that you two arrived here before her."

Lady Rhea of Thorolund had become Undead a while before Edana did, and as such she had left Thorolund before her with her two companions. So it was no surprise that Petrus was wondering how Edana and Sir Esmond had arrived in Lordran so quickly.

"We sought passage through the Undead Asylum... It is a dreadful place, and I've no wish to see it ever again," Sir Esmond explained.

"The passage from that old tale? How bold, I thought it was but mere myth— but it seems that the gods are smiling in your favour," Petrus replied.

"We never would have made it, if it wasn't for a brave Astoran knight— his name is Oscar," Edana added in. "We were separated, but the man by the fire told us that he came here... Have you seen him? Clad in a blue surcoat of an elite knight."

Petrus blinked.

"Why, yes," he said. "He was here last night... I told him that I'd prefer to keep a distance because I didn't know what to make of him. He was your friend?"

"Yes! He is a great man!" Edana told Petrus enthusiastically.

"I owe him a great deal, I covet the chance to repay him," said Sir Esmond.

Petrus rubbed his head, and he exhaled with regret.

"I would not have shrugged him off if I knew... He said he was leaving for the Undead church— to ring one of the Bells of Awakening," the elite cleric told them.

"That wretched man by the fire told us that," Esmond said with a nod. "He left last night, correct?"

"Yes, he barely even took the time to rest," Petrus replied. "He seemed to be very dutiful."

"I was also told that the waterway can take me to the church, is this also correct?"

"It is."

Sir Esmond then stood up and grabbed his helm, which somewhat startled Edana and Petrus.

"Sir Esmond...?" The girl asked with wonder.

"My destination is clear, I will go and assist Sir Oscar— and return with him," Sir Esmond told them adamantly.

"That is... Suicide! To go alone...!" Petrus tried to dissuade him.

"I will go with you!" Edana chimed in as she rose to her feet.

"M'lady!" Petrus cried.

Sir Esmond glared sternly at Edana with a scowl.

"No, you won't," the knight said clearly and coldly. "Petrus will have to stay here to await Lady Rhea... And you will stay with him, my lady."

"You are not the only one who owes Sir Oscar their life!" Edana retorted with equal determination. "So I _will_ go with you!"

"Listen to me!" Sir Esmond growled, which startled Edana. "I'll not tolerate any more of your selfish impulses, you will remain here like I told you— do you understand?!"

The Thorolund knight's voice was thunderous, which intimidated the little girl. Edana lowered her head and she broke down in tears. Sir Esmond looked on with a seemingly placid expression as Petrus tried to comfort little Edana. The knight sighed and then he adorned his helm, sliding down the visor. After strapping his sheathed sword to his belt and grabbing his shield, Esmond turned.

"Take care of my lady, Petrus— I will be back soon," Sir Esmond told Petrus, and then he was gone.

Edana didn't stop weeping until the sound of Sir Esmond's metallic footsteps faded away into the distance. The girl released a hiccup, and she frantically rubbed her eyes in an attempt to rid herself of tears.

"M'lady... You have to understand how he feels, as well," Petrus counselled Edana.

"H-H-He's never, ever... S-Scolded me so violently before..." The little girl muttered.

"It's because he loves you, and he doesn't want to see harm befall you," Petrus told her. "Know that, at least, m'lady."

"I know... I know..." Edana said. "But, still... It's not fair..."

The girl looked to the direction where Sir Esmond had departed.

 **"I wish I had the strength, to be at his side..."**

* * *

His azure surcoat blew with the wind. An Undead man wearing the armour of an Astoran elite knight walked the old and battered bridge that was made of old stone bricks. He gazed at the sights below from behind his helm. The mountains and forests in the distance were shone upon by golden rays of sunlight that shot through parts of the clouded sky... It was a sight to behold, indeed.

The knight paused for a moment, and he leaned on the old brick railing of the wall. He let the breeze pass through him in a rare moment of relaxation. But then, there was a loud crash which produced a gust of wind... And there was the sound of rabid breathing. The Undead turned his head casually, and at the end of the bridge; a massive, hulking bull demon had dropped down. In its hands was a monstrously humongous axe, which looked to made of strange bones that were also very large.

"There you are," the knight said indifferently, in an icy monotone.

The Undead pushed off the railing, and he drew his sword. He rubbed some sort of resin along the blade, and the sword immediately produced singing, golden sparks. The knight then reached to his back and brandished a blue kite shield... That was crested with flowers.

The man slowly approached the demon as it slowly ambled towards him with heavy, thumping footsteps.

 **"You won't kill me this time."**


	4. Chapter III - The Boiling Blood

**III - The Boiling Blood**

Rotted purple trickled down the blade of Sir Esmond's sword. Three felled hollows laid at his feet, clad in their tattered and ruined armour and clutching onto their worn weapons. The Thorolund knight stood before the exit of the old waterway, where the three hollows had attacked him upon his arrival in the burg. It wasn't a clean killing, those hollows were likely soldiers or militia. A different story from the prisoners and guards of the Undead Asylum.

The Undead Burg itself was no pretty sight. It sat between the caress of high walls and under the great bridge above, and the sights within boasted naught but ruin. The buildings were still relatively intact, but it was untended, with overgrown vines and vegetation... But worst of all; it was home only to the mad. But even knowing this, Sir Esmond continued through the burg with his shield raised, entering the next building.

Was he afraid? Of course he was. His mistress Edana did not understand that, for he always maintained a strong front before his enemies. She called him brave, but no man could be brave if he didn't fear... Otherwise that man would be nothing but a fool. But, there was something else there. Another emotion.

Exhilaration.

Sir Esmond cut into the next hollow that dared to cross his path, and its blood sprayed all over the walls of the building and the old furniture. And then the next, and the one after that. Before the knight knew it; his armour was soaked in the blood of the insane.

 _So fragile,_ he thought, and then he smashed the skull of a hollow with his shield. _How easily these creatures break!_

A grin appeared on his lips, concealed by his helm. The hollows were of no contest to him, there was no way that they could ever defeat him. Sir Esmond exited the building, and he crossed a small and thin bridge... At the end, he found an astonishing sight. Even more hollows, dead on the ground... More than he had killed on the way, and all in the same spot. In a strange, yet frustrating way; Sir Esmond felt beat.

 _Sir Oscar... How did you do it?_ He asked himself. From their first encounter, Sir Oscar's swordsmanship did not seem to be better than his own... Yet, Esmond could barely imagine himself slaying such a large group of enemies by himself.

It made him feel jealous, really.

Deciding to proceed upward; Sir Esmond stepped over the corpses and he walked up the stairs that stood before him. Upon reaching the top, there were two paths; a building to his left, connected to a wooden bridge— and to his right was another thin stone bridge that lead to the side opposite of his position; where a gap showing the levels below was present. As the knight weighed his options, he heard the crackling sound of fire. It was coming from the building to the left. Curiously and carefully, Sir Esmond entered the building with his shield raised.

A bonfire. There was a bonfire at the centre of the room, with a crushed staircase surrounding it. Sir Esmond looked to the magical fire, observing the coiled sword that impaled into the ash, and the bones that kept it lit. The bonfire was a peculiar thing, its flames healed and provided comfort to the Undead— wounds, fatal or no could be healed in an instant. A powerful device indeed, but it was of no use to Sir Esmond as he was not Undead. He sheathed his sword and he crouched before the fire.

"Gods, what is the purpose of all this?" The knight asked as he stared into the fire. Edana's face appeared in his mind. "Why must my lady be cursed so?"

The Undead were linked to the bonfires, it was common knowledge. But why? By whose divination were the branded cursed to be reborn again and again until the day their sanity had left them? Fire was the domain of the gods... Perhaps...

 _No._ Esmond killed the thought immediately.

Sir Esmond shook his head, and he sighed. He took the time to observe the room, taking note of the ruined staircase and the ladder at its summit. The old iron ladder was similar to designs that Esmond had seen before; it could be retracted and extended. There was no way for the knight to reach it, for the staircase was finely destroyed. Esmond turned his attention away from the futile thought of the ladder, and he inspected the countless crates that were littered around the room. But, he didn't find a thing; only dust. Although there were spots that seemed to have been roused.

 _Oscar probably rested here,_ he thought— but he of course, couldn't be sure.

The Thorolund knight stood and turned to leave the room... But then there was a fierce and loud roar; high in pitch, almost as if it was shrieking. It came from above. Esmond rushed outside, and he turned his head upward to the great bridge that shadowed over the burg. Flames could be seen bursting from the bridge, and the expansive, leathery red wings were impossible to miss. Sir Esmond's eyes were widened and a bead of cold sweat dripped down his cheek.

"A-A dragon...?" He assumed with astonishment, as quiet as a whisper. But then he clicked. "Sir Oscar!"

It had to be the Astoran knight up there provoking the winged beast, Esmond truly believed it. The knight drew his sword and he rushed across the stone bridge with his armour clattering along the way. In the room at the end of the bridge, there were several dead hollows but Sir Esmond ignored them; continuing his pursuit of Sir Oscar. As he made his way up some more steps, a ragged hollow had the gall to cross Esmond's path.

"Vanish!" Sir Esmond howled.

Steel sunk into the hollow's neck; and the bite of the blade was sharp. The creature's head flew and the body fell, both smacking against the stone tiled ground with red sprayed into the air. There was no hesitation, nor delay; Sir Esmond continued in his mad dash towards the upper levels.

He owed a debt to Oscar, and it weighed heavy. For the wrong Esmond did him, and most of all; for saving his life and that of his lady Edana's. He wouldn't let Sir Oscar die... Or go hollow; however it worked. By his honour, he had to make it right.

Sir Esmond dashed down some steps, with corpses of hollows visible at the bottom. The knight then paused as he saw it, a staircase leading to a tower— which was connected to the great bridge up above. That was where he needed to go. The knight started running again after confirming his destination, but then something black flashed in the corner of his eye.

"What—" The knight uttered, and he raised his shield.

The next thing he knew, he was in the air. His shield came loose from his grip... And funnily enough, there was a massive dent in it that teared the steel all the way through to the other side. Sir Esmond couldn't understand what had happened, why was he airborne? It was almost if time slowed down for a few moments, but before he knew it he began to fall— and he hit the ground hard with a loud thump. The knight could feel his ribs crack, and he was unable to contain a resounding cry of pain.

Sir Esmond gasped, and he coughed blood into his helm. Clunking footsteps could be heard, drifting closer and closer. The knight lifted his head, and he saw a figure almost twice his height— clad in blackened armour from head to toe. A frightening helmet was adorned on its head, with demonic horns protruding into the sky. A large sword was in its right hand, and a thick kite shield in its right... All black. That was the thing Sir Esmond saw from the corner of his eye, and it had greeted the Thorolund knight with a surprise attack.

"Y...You... Coward..." Sir Esmond wheezed out as he struggled to lift himself off of the cold ground.

Esmond managed to get on his feet. He stared down the black knight as it slowly approached him. Sir Esmond had lost his shield... It would not be an easy fight. The black knight had enough strength to send a man skyward; a direct hit would be fatal... No mistakes could be made. But then the Thorolund knight quickly took note of his surroundings, it was too cramped and his back was against a brick wall. Esmond immediately devised multiple plans in his head, but none would work.

The enemy was already before him, with its sword arm rising. There was no opening to escape, nor was he able; his broken ribs hindered his movement. Counterattacking was also impossible; the black knight had its shield raised and its monstrous blade would shatter his own like glass. There was no chance, it was all over.

 _No... No!_ Esmond defiantly screamed in his head.

Vigor returned to Sir Esmond's body in a burst of adrenaline. And just like that, his ribs no longer irked his insides— the pain was instead replaced with numbness. Then the black knight's sword fell down at Sir Esmond, and the latter immediately rolled out of the way and slashed at the gap between the demon's chausses. Sparkling dust and steam burst out as the blade connected, and Sir Esmond did not feel his sword slice through any flesh.

The black knight whipped around and tried to bash Sir Esmond's with its shield, but the Thorolund knight was quick to step back out of harm's way. The demon did not relent, it stepped forward with a thrust of its sword which was once again evaded. But, Sir Esmond still could not counterattack because the black knight always had its shield raised. The movements and swordplay of the demon were fluid, fast and masterful, Esmond could not avoid them much longer; the pain was numbed but his wounds took a toll on his body's capacity nonetheless. So the choice was obvious...

Run.

Knowing that he was outmatched, Sir Esmond sprinted up the staircase from whence he came. He had to find cover, somewhere— anywhere. He could hear the black knight's footsteps following closely behind him; there was no escaping the monster. Therefore he had to find place, or something that would give him an edge. The Thorolund knight ran past a watchtower and down the stairs he once traversed upwards. From there he ran into a building and slammed the door shut, locked it and even barred it with a table to buy some time.

Sir Esmond scrambled around the room, rummaging for something... Anything. He had to find something, or he was likely dead. There were a few hollowed corpses sprawled out on the floor, all armed; albeit with broken weapons. Esmond could hear the demon outside stopping at the door, followed by a thump. It was trying to break through, and the door was not very fortified. Sir Esmond's heart was thumping violently, time was running out.

"Damn it, come on!" Esmond cried as he flipped over one of the corpses. "Come on!"

Then there it was, at the body's belt pouch. A bisque urn, wrapped and sealed. Esmond could tell what it was right away; a firebomb. There were a few there on the corpse's possession, and Sir Esmond immediately pocketed them with a grin. The Thorolund knight turned and smashed down one of the wooden windows with the hilt of his weapon in a half-sword grip. He stuck closely to the escape route and pulled out a firebomb with his free hand... And he waited. It wasn't long until the door that held back the black knight burst from its rivets and flew halfway across the room.

Sir Esmond immediately threw the urn in his hand at the black knight. The firebomb smashed against the monster's chest and exploded into flames with the shell of the urn scattering across the room. The Thorolund knight did not stop to see the result of his attack, and he vaulted through the broken window— finding himself back outside. He could hear the footsteps of the black knight circling back around the building. It seemed to have survived even a direct hit from the firebomb.

 _Damn monster!_ Sir Esmond cursed in his head.

The Thorolund knight kept running. There was that tower to his left, he quickly proceeded up the stairs and to its summit. In his company up above was the corpse of a hollowed soldier, clutching a crossbow in his arms. Sir Esmond immediately grabbed the crossbow, and he checked if it was loaded; and it was. There were a few bolts on the body's possession, and the knight took those too.

The black knight could be heard patrolling around below, searching for Esmond in a slow pace. Clunk, clunk, clunk. Sir Esmond was getting tired of hearing the sound of its hulking armour clattering as it ambled. What manner of demon was that thing, anyway? The black knight was a fierce creature, it took a firebomb to the chest and a sword to the leg without even fazing. Its very being frightened Esmond, but once again... There was something else there, and it seemed to grow stronger with every beat of his heart.

Sir Esmond looked to his hand; he was shaking.

 _I fear it, yes... But..._ Esmond pondered his thoughts, and he gripped his hand into a fist. _Is this excitement I feel? The excitement of a battle to the death?_

The Thorolund knight could not contain the grin from growing on his lips. The pain of his broken ribs was slowly returning to his senses, but it didn't matter. He would kill that monster no matter what. He swore it by all the gods and on his own life.

Sir Esmond took a peek over the walls of the tower and he looked to the area below. There it was, circling around with his hulking sword in his clutches. The Thorolund knight nocked and primed his crossbow. He aimed carefully at the black knight's head, and a bead of cold sweat dripped down from his temple. And then, the bolt was loosed upon the demon, it flew and sunk itself in the black knight's shoulder. Esmond had missed his mark, and he cursed under his breath.

The black knight recoiled, and immediately whipped around. It locked Sir Esmond in its sights, and dashed towards the tower's staircase. It was bad, Esmond would be cornered up on the tower should the black knight make it to the stairs. The Thorolund knight ran down the stairs with his sword in one hand, and a crossbow in the other.

 _Hurry,_ he cried in his head. _Hurry!_

Esmond finally reached the bottom of the stairs, only to be greeted by the sword of the black knight. Sir Esmond quickly parried the blow with his sword, but the force of the demon's attack was immense. The Thorolund knight's arm flung to the side and his body followed it, crashing to the ground. His prized family heirloom sword was broken into three pieces. Esmond gasped and groaned as the black knight slowly approached him again.

"...Don't mock me!" Growled the Thorolund knight, and he loosed a crossbow bolt at the monster... Only for it to bounce off the black knight's shield.

As the demon was distracted in that single instant, Sir Esmond dropped his crossbow and grabbed a shard of what remained of his sword's blade. The Thorolund knight burst to his feet and he charged the black knight. He was fast enough to make it close enough so that the black knight's sword could not harm him. Esmond's sword arm was raised, aiming for the wide slits of its helm. But, it was useless. The black knight smashed Sir Esmond with its shield, and sent him flying. The Thorolund knight collided with the wall of a building, and he fell harshly upon the stone ground.

It hurt. The pain was searing at his insides and at his flesh. Sir Esmond's limbs were screaming at him, begging for it to end. And at that moment, Esmond felt like giving up. But, it was only for that single moment. The Thorolund knight lifted his head, and he glared at the approaching black knight. His blood boiled, and a mad grin appeared on his lips, from behind his helm. His wounds once again became numb. Perhaps it was a sign of his strength? Or perhaps it was a sign that he was dying. Either way, there was only one thing that was set in his mind at that moment.

Kill the black knight.

Everything after that was a blur. Sir Esmond fought with the black knight, that was certain. There was a lot of laughter, and its conjurer was none other than the Thorolund knight himself. He wondered if he had gone mad, the laughter was uncontrollable. Or perhaps he was just that desperate, or mayhap he was simply thrilled. The rush of battle, the burning of his wounds... The feeling of desperation... Yes, it was indeed exhilarating. Yet it was unforgivable, such emotions were the very root of sin. Esmond was a man of the gods, but in that moment; he didn't care about any of that. In fact, nothing else even mattered. The Way of White, the gods, his mission, his honour, and even Lady Edana. Nothing mattered. The battle had consumed him.

 _Die,_ Esmond uttered in his head. _Die, die, die, die, die!_

The frenzied Thorolund knight stabbed at a gap of the black knight's armour with his shard of blade, and he retreated, and then he attacked again at a different gap. It was a pattern, and Sir Esmond kept repeating it; it became second nature. Eventually, the black knight found itself unable to operate its left hand; and the shield fell from his grasp. Sir Esmond laughed again, and he went to deal the finishing blow. The demon responded by swinging its sword at him, but Sir Esmond stopped the attack by grabbing the black knight's wrist as it was mid-swing and he flung it to the side. Sir Esmond's then thrust his blade into the wide slits of the demon's helm. Sparkling dust and steam burst out, and the black knight released a disembodied, haunting cry.

And then it fell to the ground. It's body and equipment dissipated into steam... And the black knight was no more.

Sir Esmond was panting heavily in attempts to catch his breath. He slumped and took a few steps back. And then he chuckled, followed by another, and it slowly turned into wicked laughter.

"Ha-ha... Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Sir Esmond then bit his lip so hard it bled, and he screamed. "No!"

The knight then dropped the blade shard he held and he fell onto his knees. He grasped his arm and he looked at his hand... He was shaking uncontrollably. His thoughts were a mess. He triumphed over the black knight, but something was wrong... His frenzy, his rage, his excitement; it wasn't right. He was no madman, he was a man of the gods. A knight of the Way of White, sworn to honour and chivalry.

"Gods... I'm not mad..." Sir Esmond muttered with guilt and grief. "I'm not...!"

The knight balled his hand into a fist, and he gripped tightly. The rage, the thrill, it had taken him. It was unbecoming of him. He couldn't believe that he was even able to draw such savage emotions from such a barbaric battle.

"It wasn't right..." He whispered. "It wasn't right..."

Sir Esmond closed his eyes. The face of his mistress, Edana appeared in his mind. She looked on at Esmond with disappointment, and the Thorolund knight paled at the sight— even if it was just an apparition that formed in his mind.

"My lady... Please... Forgive me."

He kneeled there for a while, before he was able to pick himself up. Esmond had calmed down, but his feelings of guilt still remained; scraping at his chest.

"Vereor Nox," he prayed.

Sir Esmond rose to his feet, and he winced in pain. His ribs were once again burning, with the inclusion of other wounds suffered from his heated battle with the black knight. His left arm was cut, and seemed a bit dead, and his legs felt like they were on fire. Esmond clicked his tongue, and he turned towards the great bridge above once more. The supposed dragon's rage had ceased. Which meant that either the person, or whatever it was that provoked it was dead— or they had triumphed over it. The Thorolund knight prayed for it to be the latter.

 _Sir Oscar, wait for me._ Esmond steeled his will.

The knight walked, dragging his feet across the ground. The bridge, he had to get to the bridge. Esmond made his way to where he first encountered the formidable black knight, and he looked to the hollowed corpses that lined the cold floor. From one of the bodies he pillaged an axe; a worn one at that, but it was better than proceeding unarmed. He continued on, up the steps and into the tower. It was a silent walk, besides the blowing wind singing in the air. It echoed in the brick walls of the tower ominously, and in Sir Esmond's mind.

Blood trickled down from his left arm, and left tracks on the ground as he passed. The stairs offered a dreadful climb in Sir Esmond's state. It took everything he had to reach the top, and even then he found that the next set of stairs were pummeled and destroyed. But it mattered little, there was a doorway leading to a narrow and battered bridge; through which he proceeded with gasping breath.

His eyes widened at the sight before him. The beauty of the distant mountains and clouds, the lukewarm rays of the concealed sun... And the large corpse of a demon laying on at the centre of the bridge. A skeletal visage, horns that of a bull's, a short, stony tail and hulking muscular limbs. It was smaller than the demon of the Undead Asylum and it didn't seem to be armed, but that didn't make the sight any less frightening.

 _Did you kill this one too, Oscar?_ Sir Esmond asked in his head, and he winced from the pain of his wounds.

The searing pain provoked anger, and envy. Sir Esmond balled his left hand into a fist, which caused more blood to gush from the gash on his arm.

 _How?_ He questioned. _How did you do it?_

Sir Esmond clicked his tongue, and he continued on walking with struggle. He had killed some sort of demon of his own, yes— but the tracks that Sir Oscar left seemed to outshine any victories of his own at every turn. The Thorolund knight cursed himself for his feelings of envy; it was a sinful emotion after all. But, from what he saw; if anyone could succeed in ringing the Bells of Awakening... It was Oscar. He swore with a chuckle that he would make the Astoran tell him the secret to his strength. It was an amusing thought.

His body felt weaker and weaker as he ambled. His left arm started to lose feeling, and his eyes began to lower.

 _No,_ he thought. _Keep going. Don't you dare fall._

Sir Esmond had reached the end of the thin bridge, and he managed to walk down some stairs without falling on his head. But, upon exiting the building and onto the great bridge... He fell. His armour thumped against the ground, and the chain of the mail underneath clattered. His axe fell from his hand, and the Thorolund knight gasped and groaned. Persistently, he tried to crawl onward.

"No... Not yet..." He whimpered. "Not yet...!"

The knight was desperate. With his right arm he grasped the rough ground and tried to pull himself towards the great bridge. He had tears in his eyes. He didn't want to die like that, in a forsaken hold, without accomplishing a thing. He let out a dreadful cry, like a cornered animal. He had to keep going. He had to find Oscar, and return to his mistress. He had to... She was waiting for him.

There were sounds of footsteps behind Sir Esmond, but the knight kept crawling. The footsteps got closer and closer. The Thorolund knight knew the sound all too well; sabatons, clacking away and chains rustling.

"Easy, friend." There was a man's voice, gentle and clear. "You don't want to go that way, not in that state."

Esmond kept trying to crawl away. But then the man who had warned him against it grabbed his arm.

"R...Release me," Sir Esmond croaked, in a raspy tone.

"You're going to die if you don't get treated," the man responded. He held an emerald flask filled with candescent liquid, and he went to remove Esmond's helm. "I have estus for you."

"That won't do anything... I'm not Undead..." Sir Esmond told him, and the man retracted his arm and flask.

"A miracle, then."

The man held a decorated talisman, and he started to chant a holy verse. Sir Esmond laid there, still and waiting. Golden swirls of light then enveloped around the Thorolund knight, and dissipated like dust into the air. The bleeding of his arm ceased, and his wounds closed. His ribs no longer felt like they were stabbing at his stomach, and he felt a rush of warmth and comfort throughout his body.

Sir Esmond gasped with relief, and he sat himself up. He looked to his savior, seeing that he was clad in iron from head to toe. He wore a white surcoat, with a symbol of the sun painted at the centre; in red and yellow— with green fur at his shoulders also. The iron great-helm he wore had a red feather attached to the side. His figure boasted a bright aura, and somewhat strangely warming. The man's shield, round as it was— was even decorated with a sun as well.

The Thorolund knight narrowed his eyes shrewdly from behind his helm.

"Who are you, sir?" He asked.

"Me?"

"Who else?"

The man chuckled, and he rose to his feet.

 **"I am a warrior of the sun."**

* * *

Edana walked the ancient shrine. Firelink Shrine, it was called; according to Petrus. It was a fascinating name, the girl wondered what the reasoning behind it was. But there was little doubt then that the shrine was dedicated to the gods. The ancient shrine held a strange and ambient allure that Edana enjoyed. It made her truly realize that she was in Lordran. It was the fabled, ancient land of lords after all, the domain of Lord Gwyn and home to the great Allfather Lloyd— who was Gwyn's uncle, by accounts. Edana had always wanted to see Lordran, but on her own terms... Not as she was then, not as an accursed Undead.

The girl sighed, and she found herself by two old archways. Through them was simply a hole. Petrus had told her that long ago the denizens of the church above could access Firelink Shrine through a lift. But the said device had long since been inactive. Edana stepped forward, and she crouched down to try and see the bottom of the lift's hole. It was fairly dark, and the night approached. It was hard to see what was below, due to that.

"Hmm..." The girl hummed with wonder. _Perhaps..._

Edana lifted up her talisman, and she conjured a lesser miracle. Golden light shone the hole for an instant, revealing what was below... Which was nothing, really. But the girl took note that it was not very deep, and that there was some sort of doorway. For maintenance, perhaps? The girl looked back, to see if there was any sign of Petrus. Upon seeing that she was alone, the girl proceeded to climb down into the hole.

She had never had the chance to do anything like that back at Thorolund. What hurt could a little bit of curious mischief cause? Sir Esmond wasn't there to reprimand her anyhow, the knight had left her behind— so the girl was going to explore all she wanted. The thought of Sir Esmond provoked a pout from Edana.

"Humph!" She expressed sourly.

The girl dropped down into the hole, and landed safely. And it seemed that her eyes did not deceive her; there was a narrow doorway leading out somewhere. Edana walked forward, and proceeded through the doorway. There was only a drop at the exit, leading down to a patch of grass. Quite recklessly, Edana hopped down with little hesitation.

 _What is this place?_ She wondered.

The white-haired girl wandered around, and she spotted a wooden chest on the grass. As she took the time to observe carefully, her eyes began to adjust to the darkness... And she found that there were multiple chests. Curiously, she went and opened one of them. There were some ashen bones, ominously enough. She then opened the next, and inside was a morning star, and a talisman— common equipment for a cleric. Edana felt an inexplicable tang of discomfort in her chest... But she continued and opened the next chest, which was quite a distance away from the first.

Edana's eyes widened, and a gasp almost escaped her lips as she saw the contents of the chest. Four, cracked fragments of something... Red in colour, and they had eyes on them. The priestess knew not their design, but she could tell that those red things weren't good. She felt it; the darkness. Whatever it was, it shouldn't have existed. The girl slammed the chest shut, and she stood. That was no place for her, she knew that then.

"M'lady?" A man's voice called.

The little girl froze where she stood, and she slowly turned around to see familiar face. He was standing before Edana. When did he get there? The girl didn't even hear him.

"Petrus..." She said.

Petrus looked to the chest at Edana's feet, and he then turned his eyes towards the priestess herself. His lips moved, and he spoke.

 **"What are you doing here?"**


	5. Chapter IV - The Dawn of Thought

**IV - The Dawn of Thought**

Amber eyes observed the elite cleric under the rising moon. Darkness had cast itself upon the shrine, carried by the encroaching night. Edana found herself at a loss for words, for some odd reason she could not bring herself to answer Petrus. There was something about the look in his eyes that intimidated her; the cleric was most surely furious. Chills shot down her spine, and Petrus released a sigh.

"You had me worried sick," said Petrus. "I looked all over for you, m'lady."

Petrus' expression turned to that of relief, and the tension disappeared immediately. It wasn't until then that Edana realized that she had been tensing her shoulders up for quite some time. She relaxed herself and spoke.

"I'm sorry, Petrus," the girl sincerely apologized.

"I warned you against wandering off, m'lady," Petrus replied. "What would I say to Sir Esmond if harm had befallen you?"

"Sorry..." Edana repeated.

The white-haired girl put her hands together and she fiddled with her fingers nervously. She had troubled Petrus with her stupid little curiosity, and for that she did feel guilty. Petrus was a very kind and caring man, and Edana knew she did him wrong.

The night slowly became darker, and Petrus walked up to the little lady. The cleric crouched down to the girl's height, and he looked at her with a very distressed frown.

"Are you angry?" Edana asked the man nervously.

"Yes, I am angry," Petrus replied simply, and Edana bit her lip. Tears welled up in her eyes, and they glistened under the moonlight.

"Please forgive me," the girl said, and she sniffled.

"I forgive you, m'lady, but you must learn from this," Petrus told her, and then he looked on somewhat uncomfortably. "Erm... M'lady, please don't cry."

Edana rubbed the tears from her eyes and she sniffled again. Petrus smiled warmly, and he gave the child a gentle pat on the head.

"Come, let us return," he told her. "It'll do little good to linger by the old graves."

"Yes, but... Petrus, did you know about this place?" The girl asked in response, and she turned to the chest behind her with worrisome eyes.

"No, m'lady," Petrus answered. "But it sure looks like someone else has been here, did you find anything?"

"A weapon, a talisman, and..." The girl trailed off.

Edana shivered at the thought of the red fragments she had found. Even with the chest closed she could feel the ominous evil oozing from its contents. Petrus took note of Edana's discomfort, and he decided to open the chest and see for himself. The red crystal fragments were revealed, inanimately sitting in the chest. Petrus narrowed his eyes, he felt it too; Edana was sure of it.

The fragments were unmoving, but the eyes seemed to be staring right at Edana; observing every fibre of her being. The little priestess cowered behind Petrus, clutching onto his arm with pursed lips.

"What are those things?" She asked fearfully.

"I don't know." Petrus shook his head. "Shards of some ancient artifact perhaps... But, undeniably evil."

The elite cleric stood and he closed the chest. Edana looked to him, and her eyes reflected worry and uncertainty.

"I dare not to mess with it, without knowing its design," said Petrus. "M'lady, it's time to go."

"We're just going to leave it here?"

"Yes, we'll discuss what we have found here with Sir Esmond when he returns."

"I... Understand."

Petrus took Edana's hand, and the girl gripped tightly. She felt bad for being intimidated by the cleric before, as Petrus was truly a good man. The touch of his hand was gentle, and it offered a warming comfort. She felt safe, even in the darkness of the night.

The two walked, and returned to the shrine.

* * *

It was a clear memory, of that warm, summer day in Thorolund. The sun's rays shot through the stained glass of the chapel, the birds chirped loudly and the chatter of the many clerics filled the room. A little girl stood at the centre of the room, for all to see.. It was none other than Edana.

She felt all the eyes upon her, and it unnerved her very soul. Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. The girl grasped her hands together and she closed to her eyes. She prayed to all the gods for a quick delivery from her plight. A child of twelve had no business being paraded before the entire circle of the Way of White, but she solemnly accepted her situation... But that did not mean she didn't fear. She knew why she was called forth, and her heart had become as brittle as glass from knowing it.

Her expression was blank, hiding all the emotions that circled within her.

 _Vereor Nox,_ she prayed, and then she looked up to the end of the room.

There he stood, the great head bishop himself. He was an old man, his hair was white, and he had a lengthy beard that flowed down to his waist. The head bishop was clad in decorated white robes, held a gold-trimmed staff and adorned a magnificent mitre on his head. His gaze was upon Edana's, and his eyes alone provided more discomfort to the little priestess than all the clerics combined. The head bishop stroked his long, white beard before he spoke.

"Lady Edana, know'st thou the reason of thy summoning?" He asked, his voice raspy but yet very powerful.

"I do, your excellency," Edana replied dryly, almost stuttering in her sentence.

"Then, I prithee do not resist," the head bishop told her. "This will be over soon, child."

"Y...Yes, your excellency."

Liquid welled up in the little girl's eyes, and she closed her eyes. The tears fell, and streamed down her cheeks as Edana sobbed. Before long, two, male clerics walked up to the girl... And they laid their hands onto her robes. The clerics began removing the girl's clothes, somewhat harshly and hastily. Edana sobbed frantically as her covers were yanked from her body, and her bare form was revealed to all around her.

Edana wrapped her arms around her chest, but it did not conceal the frightening truth that was etched on her chest. The was a gasp, and room immediately was filled with gossip and chatter. A ring of flames was present on the right side of her chest, like a bruise but there was no illusions to what it was...

It was the darksign.

"U...Undead..." Muttered one of the clerics who had removed Edana's clothes.

"Lordran... Lordran!" Cried one of the voices from the crowd.

"Yes, she must go to Lordran!"

Edana dropped to her knees. The crowd shouted and chanted over and over, their words may have differed but they all meant the same thing. They cried for the ancient rites to be called upon; to send the newly accursed Undead to the land of lords. The little girl continued to wail, as her world crumbled down around her.

"C...Clothes, p-please..." The girl said, but her voice was overpowered by the shouting of those around her.

The voices echoed inside the priestess' head, overlapping, intertwining... Smashing at every corner of her mind. Edana closed her eyes, and she began to shake and quiver. It felt as if her heart was ready to shatter into pieces, and the girl wanted to scream.

 _Stop it,_ she cried in her head. _Make it stop...!_

"Silence!" The head bishop's voice boomed throughout the room.

The room immediately met with silence. All eyes went to the head bishop, who inhaled deeply before he spoke next. Edana did not feel relief from the ceasing of the voices, however. Instead, she felt her fears rising as she prepared to hear the words of the head bishop.

Her life, was over. She knew that... Or perhaps it was already over from the moment the darksign had branded her body; she was no longer human, after all.

"Prithee cover Lady Edana up," the old bishop commanded.

A cleric came forth and wrapped an old cloak around Edana's shoulders, and the girl covered herself. Her gentle, small hands were gripping tightly onto the fabrics of the cloak. Edana raised her head, and she looked to the head bishop. Her eyes were lifeless, devoid of emotion and light. Despair had taken her, and she could do nothing but just listen as her fate is decided by the words of an old man.

"Thou art cursed, Lady Edana," the head bishop told her. "Know'st thou of thy calling?"

Edana did not speak, she only gave a weak nod in response. The head bishop nodded curtly himself, and he turned to the crowd of clerics.

"Leave us," the old man said.

The clerics cleared out of the room quietly, except for a handful of them; who remained. They were likely high ranking members within the inner circle of the Way of White; and bearer of many secrets the order held. Once all the rabble left, the head bishop walked forward and approached Edana slowly. His shoes clacked on the floor of marble, all the way until he stood directly before the cursed priestess.

Edana looked at him, and the head bishop stared back. The rays of sun shot at the old man's back, illuminating the outline of his figure and darkening his visage. The head bishop was frighteningly tall, Edana had never realized that before. Even in the pits of despair, the Way of White's pious leader boasted a godly presence in the eyes of the little girl.

"Do not be frightened, child," the head bishop told her. "Tis thy destiny, know with grace that thou serveth the gods."

The little priestess could not muster any words in response. She just listened, and waited. The head bishop took note of her silence, but he ignored it and continued.

"Thou shalt make pilgrimage to Lordran, this much thou know'st," the old man observed. "But, thou know'st not of what this mission demands."

"I've heard only rumours, your excellency," Edana replied weakly. "Am I to be seeking something...?"

"That is correct. Thou shalt seek the ancient Rite of Kindling, and with it, return hither."

The name was unfamiliar to Edana, but she knew what kindling was. The art of feeding bonfires humanity, rumoured in stories to grant men miraculous powers. She had heard of the tales when she was younger, but the notion of kindling was often dismissed as a myth. There was no historical evidence in any of the Way of White's archives to its existence, after all.

"Your excellency, what... Is this Rite of Kindling?" The child asked.

"The ancient art of feeding humanity to bonfires," the head bishop explained. "Thou hast heard of it before, no?"

"Only in the stories, your excellency," the girl replied.

"Then know this, Edana of Thorolund— through kindling we shall one day be granted with divine powers." The stare of the head bishop's was hard and cold as he spoke. "Think of the good we can do, the people we can save... Do you understand the importance of thy task?"

Edana nodded, and the head bishop returned the gesture with his own curt nod. He had little more to say, it seemed.

"W...Where would I begin to look, your excellency?" Edana asked, and she bit her lip.

"Seeketh the ancient catacombs, thou shalt find clarity there."

"I understand, your excellency..."

Edana lifted up her hands weakly, and she grasped them together in prayer. The head bishop just curtly nodded, and there was no remorse in his eyes. The little girl knew that she was to find only doom in Lordran, and the head bishop knew it too. Yet, he couldn't even spare a single drop of sympathy? Not even pity? The answer was no; there was only certainty— the cold hard fact of her mission, and what needed to be done. Perhaps Edana was presumptuous to have expected more from a man of such holy stature, but it disappointed her nonetheless.

The head bishop raised his staff, and he set it in front of himself. Edana closed her eyes, and awaited the commands.

"Edana of Thorolund, thou art branded by the darksign, and as such thou art Undead," the head bishop said. "I hereby sanction thee, on thy pilgrimage to the ancient land of lords... To seek the Rite of Kindling. Swear'st thou thy commitment to this cause?"

 _I have no choice regardless,_ Edana noted in her head, and she painfully spoke. "I do solemnly swear..."

"And swear'st thou, to never return to Thorolund until thou hast fulfilled thy mission?"

Those words beat themselves into Edana's soul. Unable to bear the cruelty of reality; the girl's heart shattered, and tears flowed from her eyes once again.

"I—I, I swear it... By... By all the gods..." Edana sobbed as she swore her vows.

"Let the Allfather be thy witness, and may the flames deliver thee to serendipity."

It was an empty spell, without sincerity nor emotion. But it was done, Edana's mission was clear... And her life, was finished. The head bishop just watched on without emotion as the girl cried... And he spoke once more in his booming, powerful voice.

 **"Vereor... Nox."**

* * *

Edana opened her eyes to tears, and the light of the dim moon above. The tears fell from her eyes and down the side of her face. The girl was wrapped in her sheets, and lying on an old, worn bedroll. She arose, and wiped the liquid from her eyes.

It was a terrible dream, born of her memories. The humiliation, the despair... Those crushing emotions were embedded deep into her mind, and her heart. Thinking back on it brought only pain, so the little priestess had always tried to keep it out of her thoughts. But it was an unfortunate stroke of bad luck for her to have dreamed about it. The head bishop's voice was still echoing in her head.

 _Forget it... Just forget about it..._ Edana told herself, and she sighed.

The child looked to Petrus. The man was fast asleep on his bedroll and snoring quietly. The sight provoked a smile from Edana, and she saw that his blankets were tousled. The girl walked over and she adjusted the blankets over Petrus, to keep him warm and comfortable. It was the least she could do for troubling him, after all.

Edana turned, and she began walking away from their camping area. She no longer felt tired, in the place of drowsiness was instead restlessness. The girl made her way towards the bonfire with the moon hanging low above her. It was near the dawn, and she decided she would spend the rest of her time to ponder upon things until daylight. Approaching the circle of steps with the fire at its centre, the girl saw a certain brooding man sitting at the very same spot.

The Crestfallen Warrior. The man glanced at the little girl, and his usual smug smirk appeared on his lips. The child had only spoken to the Crestfallen Warrior that one time with Sir Esmond, but the smirk that the pessimistic man bore irked her to no end. The lifelessness showed in the man's expression, and Edana didn't know how the man could have the gall to be so forthright in discouraging those who still had the will to go on.

But, the Crestfallen Warrior did help point Edana and Esmond in the right direction... She owed him some courtesy for that.

"Good morning..." Edana greeted plainly after approaching the warrior.

"It's never a good morning, little girl," the man replied smartly. "Not here, not in Lordran."

"What..." The priestess mumbled, and then she groaned. "M-Must you be so unpleasant?"

Edana glared at the rugged man, and she sighed with disbelief. The girl turned to leave, disgusted with the Crestfallen Warrior's coarse attitude.

"Did I upset you?" The man's smug voice could be heard, but Edana ignored him.

The girl descended down some steps in her escape. Awaiting her at the bottom was mainly just grass and mossy ruined walls, but Edana kept on walking. She was still in the shrine, so Petrus would not have had any complaints, and the girl wasn't causing him trouble.

Edana then suddenly felt strange. Someone was there, she could feel it— a warm, yet dark presence. It was almost as if there was an aura of gloom lingering about in the air; swirling, intertwining and even whispering. The girl looked left and right, and she slowly ambled forward.

 _Where?_ She asked herself.

And then, there it was. Old and rusted iron bars embedded into the wall of dirt, rock and brick— and behind them, sat a woman. Edana was sucked into the sight. Dirty, golden hair tied into a bun, old and ragged robes that were dusted in the black of coal and ash. Dried patches of red stained the skirt of the woman, providing much food for thought to its origins. And when the woman raised her head, revealing her terribly worn and lifeless expression; it completed the image of tragedy. The woman was young, and quite beautiful. Her eyes were low, and devoid of light, her nose was blushed, and stains of dirt and ash marked parts of her face.

No words were yet exchanged, but Edana felt like she had learned most of the woman's story already from just sight alone. A ragged woman with the countenance of unliving melancholy, locked behind the bars of what was clearly a prison. Was there really much to be misunderstood there?

"Oh..." Edana muttered out dumbly. She shook her head to snap out of her trance, and she spoke. "E-Excuse me, are you... Alright?"

The woman stared at Edana, and she her brows slightly once she made out how young the little priestess was. Her eyes squinted, and in them reflected sadness towards Edana. The little girl could see the sympathy in the woman's eyes, but she decided to make nothing of it. After a while, the poor maiden nodded.

"You are?" Edana said with disbelief. She looked to the bars once again, they were fused tightly into the dirt and rock, and with no door, no keyhole; no exit. "Why are you... Why are you in there?"

There was no reply. The woman just looked down in silence, leaving Edana puzzled. The little girl frowned, and then thought hit her square in the head.

"Perhaps... Can you not speak?" Edana asked.

The woman looked back up at Edana from where she sat, and she nodded slowly again. Edana went to speak once more, but the emergence of the Crestfallen Warrior at her side interrupted her.

"Found her, did you?" He asked.

The man looked to the woman in her cage, and then to Edana.

"Best leave this one alone, girl," he told Edana. "She's no intention of fraternizing, even if she could."

Edana frowned, and she glared at the Crestfallen Warrior. It was clear that his presence was not welcome.

"Please mind your own business," she told the man sternly.

The Crestfallen Warrior did not waver.

"Come along, now," he said.

The man grabbed the girl by the arm, and he began to drag her away. Edana squealed and she turned her head to the craven that dared to lay hands on a child. Her expression was that of anger, and disgust.

"Unhand me, you knave!" Edana cried, squirming around to break free.

"Yes, I'm a knave," the Crestfallen Warrior replied nonchalantly. "Come along."

Edana groaned with disbelief, and she gave one last glance to the woman in the cage as she was being dragged away. The ragged maiden just watched, and Edana swore that she saw relief in the woman's eyes. The caged lass closed her eyes and leaned on the wall of dirt— slipping into respite. Before long, Edana found herself back by the bonfire, and the Crestfallen Warrior removed his hand from her arm. The little priestess recoiled, and she adjusted her robe with agitation.

The Crestfallen Warrior stood and waited for the girl to finish. He wore his usual smirk, and the girl glared at him for it. She _hated_ that stupid smile on his face, so very much.

"Your lack of knowledge pains me, girl," the man told Edana plainly.

"What are you trying to imply?" Edana gave her feisty retort.

"That girl in the cage, she's a Fire Keeper," the Crestfallen Warrior explained, and then he chuckled. "Do you know what that is, at least?"

Edana's brows raised, and the reality of it all slowly flowed into her mind. She knew what a Fire Keeper was; women who kept the bonfire lit. They were tasked with assisting and serving those who would come to rest by their fire, providing comfort for weary and torn souls. Their task, however, was unending. Until the moment they ceased to function, they would watch over the bonfire— forever.

Forever. That word echoed deep in Edana's mind.

Ravaging guilt swam into the little priestess' heart, and pity for the Fire Keeper took the place of curiosity. The woman was forever bound to the shrine, and trapped in her cage of darkness— who could've enforced such a terrible fate upon the maiden? Or perhaps, the Fire Keeper had no incentive to be free of her cage in the first place...

"Well, looks like you do know. That just makes it easier for me," said the Crestfallen Warrior.

The man sat down at his usual spot, on the ledge, and he relaxed himself. Edana looked to him in silence, awaiting new revelations.

"The lass has been here, for a very long time," he explained. "Watching the world move from the shadows, as heroes come and die... One, by one."

Edana pursed her lips as the words sank in, and the Crestfallen Warrior just looked to the bonfire.

"Black Iron Tarkus, the legendary Knight King Rendal... They all likely rested at this same fire, a long time ago," he mused. "That Fire Keeper— perhaps she once attended to them."

"Does she... Not wish to be free?" Edana asked, and the Crestfallen Warrior shook his head.

"She's accepted her fate long ago," he told her. "They probably cut her tongue out back in her village, so that she'd never say any god's name in vain. Legs crippled to prevent her from escaping, perhaps?"

Edana understood the meaning of the Crestfallen Warrior's dialogue. The Fire Keeper had accepted her fate, and her heart was broken because of it. Like a machine, she was to continue performing her duties until the day she broke. Trying to speak to the trapped maiden would only provoke discomfort and sorrow... So Edana knew that she was best off avoiding her.

The Crestfallen Warrior chuckled, and he turned his gaze from the bonfire to Edana. The girl disliked the pessimistic man, but his words spoke true, and they carried weight. He was clearly a veteran of his own ordeals, but what could have broken him so?

"Sad, really. She's mute and bound to this forsaken place," the man said.

"What about you...?" Edana dared to ask.

The man's smile disappeared for a moment, and he seemed to ponder about his answer. Soon enough, his lips moved into a smirk once more.

"I'm tired," he said. "I have no desire to struggle so vainly, not anymore."

"But, won't you... Go hollow?"

"That's right," the man replied without hesitation.

The Crestfallen Warrior's mind was set, and Edana could not wrap her head around it. The man had given up, and with his purpose run dry; only the fate of a hollow awaited him. But yet, he would wear his fake smile as he watched others seeking their own purposes; judging them from the shadows. His situation was similar to the Fire Keeper, the Crestfallen Warrior must had experienced many a tragedy of his own.

And then Edana took the time to realize, that despite all his shortcomings— the broken man still offered sound advice and provided information for them. He even pulled Edana away from the Fire Keeper, in efforts to spare the latter from the pain of unwanted interaction.

Yes, the man was...

"I'm sorry... I fear I may have been... Unfounded, in my opinion of you," Edana told the man.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The Crestfallen Warrior asked, with an amused chuckle.

"You're actually a good person, aren't you?"

The Crestfallen Warrior's eyes widened, and his pupils dilated. He looked at Edana as if he had been struck in the head; the shock and surprise were clear in his eyes. The man slowly settled down, and he closed his eyes. He exhaled loudly, and his eyes were on the little girl once more.

"Don't give me that, I don't want to hear it," he told her in a stern tone.

"Am I mistaken?" The girl asked him curiously in response.

"Look, girl, shouldn't you worry more about yourself?" The man retorted agitatedly, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't that irritable knight abandon you?"

"No...!" Edana replied in a shrewd tone. "He just, didn't want to endanger me."

"And what, are you just going to wait for his triumphant return?" The Crestfallen Warrior asked, but then he laughed. "Well, you might be... But I can see that you wish for something else."

Edana raised her brows curiously, but she knew what the rugged man meant.

"Yes, I want to follow him... I want to find our friend together, but..." Edana trailed off, lacking confidence. "...I lack the strength."

"I see, I see..." The man muttered to himself. "But do you still want to go, even knowing that?"

The little girl bit her lip. Her eyes were on the Crestfallen Warrior's, with neither of them wavering. Edana mustered up the courage, and she gave the man an answer.

"Of course... I want to go," Edana answered, clutching her hands together.

The Crestfallen Warrior closed his eyes once again, and he sat in silence. Edana watched on confusedly, and before long the man raised his head and looked to Edana with his smug smirk. He rose to his feet, and his eyes then went to the old waterway above, in the distance.

"I suppose the best way to understand... Is to see it for yourself," he said. "Are you prepared for this, girl?"

"I... I am."

"Dying is horrible, do you know that?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"So be it. Come with me, girl."

The man suddenly grabbed his sword and shield... And he began walking, and Edana watched for a few seconds before jogging to his side. The girl had no idea of what was going through the warrior's head, but she soon realized that they were heading towards the waterway.

"What... Do you plan to do?" Edana asked him.

"I'm feeling quite charitable this morning," the man replied plainly. "That's all."

"I don't understand..."

The two ascended the stairs that were carved into the cliff's side. Edana took note that light was slowly appearing at the horizon of the dawn.

But then moans could suddenly be heard. The terrible, low and broken moans... Edana knew the sound all too well; for the Undead Asylum had beaten it into her head. There were a large group of hollows standing atop the summit of the cliff steps, and the girl immediately counted twelve heads— all armed.

"So many..." Edana muttered with shock.

"They probably wandered here from the burg," the man at the girl's side assumed. "Well, only one thing to do."

The priestess turned to the Crestfallen Warrior, and her eyes widened at the sight of the man drawing his sword and adorning his shield. The steel of his blade was clean, and in spectacularly good condition.

"What are you...?" The girl gasped.

"Lighting the way."

Before Edana could speak again, the Crestfallen Warrior raised his shield and he burst forward. The hollows immediately turned, and one found itself losing its head... As it flew twirling in the air, after being removed by the Crestfallen Warrior's blade. The little priestess could not even gasp as she watched.

And then there was the next maneuver, and another hollow found death by sword. Edana knew little of the matters of martial arts... But the Crestfallen Warrior was clearly and undeniably a magnificent swordsman. His movements were fluid, his arm was powerful... And his sword was like lightning. His blade found itself felling the hollows one by one; shifting, coursing, twirling and striking at the warrior's targets without fail. The hollows flailed around with hungry cries, swinging their broken weapons with futility.

And then, the storm that was the Crestfallen Warrior's swordplay subsided. All twelve hollows lined the ground, painting the grass in the filthy purple of their blood. Edana's eyes were widened, and she looked upon the form of the Crestfallen Warrior with unsettling amazement... As the sun slowly rose in the background; illuminating the horizon.

 _He's... Better than Sir Esmond,_ she thought.

"What's with that look, girl?" The Crestfallen Warrior asked her as he flicked the rotted blood off his sword.

"You're so strong... And yet, you've given up?" She asked, failing to understand. If the man was that skilled, why would he have the need to cower in Firelink Shrine?

"Plenty stronger than me... That didn't stop them from losing their minds," the man replied plainly, and he sheathed his sword.

Edana looked to the corpses of the hollows, and she squinted. She wasn't afraid, rather... She was sad. The girl walked over and crouched before the still bodies... And she grasped her hands around her talisman in prayer with closed eyes. The Crestfallen Warrior watched on, dumbfounded and amazed both at the same time.

"...Vereor Nox," Edana said, and she opened her eyes.

"You pity them?" The Crestfallen Warrior asked the girl.

"I do," the child answered, and she slowly stood up. "After all... We might one day share the same fate."

The Crestfallen Warrior chuckled.

"You understand that, but yet you still hope for a brighter outcome?" He asked her with amusement. "Unbelievable."

"Yes... But the wish and promise for salvation... And those who would seek it, does that not inspire anything within you?" Edana asked the broken man. "For me, I think that it's beautiful."

The Crestfallen Warrior said nothing in response to that, but the words seemed to resound deeply in his heart. The man shook his head with a smirk, and he looked to Edana.

"Off to ruin, with you now, girl," he said.

"Yes, thank you for your help," the girl replied with a warm smile.

The girl turned to the waterway, and the walls of the Undead Burg above. She prayed for Sir Esmond's safety, and Sir Oscar's. The path was clear, and she would not turn back.

 ** _And so I go, into the mouth of chaos._**


End file.
